WELLS 
HASTINGS 


She   drew   back   with    something   like   a   sob 


THE  MAN  IN  THE 
BROWN  DERBY 


By 

WELLS  HASTINGS 

AUTHOR  WITH  BRIAN  HOOKER  OF  THE  PROFESSOR'S  MYSTERY 


WTTH  ^LUSTRATIONS  BY 

HERMAN  PFEIFER 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1911 
THE  BOBBS- MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS    OF 

BRAUNWORTH    &    CO. 

BOOKBINDERS    AND    PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,    N.   V. 


TO  ELISABETH 

SOME  there  be  to  whom  the  things  of  earth 
are  plain,  and  some  to  whom  heaven,  which 
is  of  course  about  us,  is  revealed;  and  a 
certain  few,  who,  because  their  faith  is  like  a 
crystal,  can  see  the  little  people  dance  o'  midsum- 
mer nights.  You  by  mind  and  spirit  and  heart 
walk  sweetly  and  at  will  in  the  three  worlds  and 
make  the  three  thrice  blessed.  Will  you  lend 
some  benison  to  this  tale — this  old-fashioned  tale 
of  nowadays — of  gallant  deeds  and  cunning  villain- 
ies— of  strong  men  and  fair  women — of  dark 
mystery  and  the  world-old  call  of  love. 


CONTENTS 


i 

ii 
in 

IV 

v 

VI 

VII 

VIII 

IX 

X 

XI 

XII 

XIII 

XIV 

XV 

XVI 

XVII 

XVIII 

XIX 

XX 

XXI 

XXII 

XXIII 

XXIV 

XXV 

XXVI 

XXVII 

XXVIII 

XXIX 

XXX 

XXXI 


PACK 

THE  PERSONAL i 

THE  APPLICANTS 9 

THE  CONTRACT 18 

ARRIVAL 29 

ALARMS 38 

ADJUSTMENT 45 

CONFESSION         .......  64 

GONE 71 

PURSUIT 83 

MRS.  LATHROP'S 95 

THE  GUESTS 107 

THE  COLLAR  AND  TIE 116 

THE  RENDEZVOUS 125 

MISFORTUNE 132 

THE  OLD  GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  CAFE       .        .  142 

WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE 151 

THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR 164 

I  HEAR  NEWS 175 

A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY    ....  186 

NANCY  AGAIN 196 

A  WORD 206 

THE  DOCTORS 218 

A  LETTER 230 

THE  ATTEMPT 238 


THE  ENCOUNTER         

THE  DARK  ROOM 

ESCAPE         

AN  OLD  FRIEND         ..... 

THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

THE  CATASTROPHE     .       .       .       .       .       .    319 

HOME  .   ....   .   .   .   .   .  331 


251 
266 
279 

293 
306 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 


THE  MAN  IN 
THE  BROWN  DERBY 


THE   PERSONAL 

FOR  a  college-bred  man  I  was  in  terrible  case 
indeed.  I  was  stranded  in  the  most  arid 
desert  in  the  world  —  New  York  City  —  and  I  had 
only  the  clothes  that  I  stood  in,  my  grandfather's 
watch,  and  about  fifty  dollars  in  money.  If  I  had 
just  come  fresh  to  the  city  and  had  its  possibilities 
before  me  this  would  not  have  been  so  terrible. 
But  I  had  been  in  New  York  for  three  months 
looking  for  employment,  so  that  opportunity  stood 
behind  instead  of  before  me.  I  had  tried  in  every 
quarter  I  could  think  of,  in  search  of  work,  and, 
so  far,  every  door  had  been  closed. 

To  one  who  has  never  seen  me  this  must  seem 
very  strange  indeed.  Even  to  one  meeting  me 
casually  in  the  street  there  seems  no  apparent  cause 
why  I,  like  other  young  men,  should  not  find  plenty 
of  work  for  the  asking.  Indeed,  in  several  offices 

I 


2     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

I  was  at  first  welcomed  with  open  arms.  But  no 
business  man  in  the  city  would  keep  me  in  his 
office  once  I  had  taken  off  my  gloves.  Through 
some  strange  prank  of  fate  my  hands,  although 
of  good  shape  and  normal  size,  are  blood-red  from 
the  wrists  down,  birth-marked  like  the  god  of 
death. 

It  was  a  strange  misfortune.  All  my  life  my 
terrible  hands  have  drawn  an  impassable  line  be- 
tween me  and  the  happiness  of  other  men.  My 
mother,  God  bless  her,  never  feared  me  nor  looked 
upon  me  with  any  other  feeling  but  the  tenderest 
one  of  love.  But  with  my  father  it  was  different. 
The  very  first  sight  he  had  of  me  repelled  him,  and 
strive  as  he  would  he  never  could  look  at  me  after- 
ward without  some  shadow  of  repugnance.  He 
tried  to  be  fair  to  me,  but  he  avoided  me  whenever 
he  could  and  there  was  never  any  close  bond  be- 
tween us.  When  my  parents  were  killed  in  a  rail- 
road wreck  together  it  was  the  death  of  my  mother 
that  came  with  cruel  shock.  That  my  father  had 
died  gave  me  no  more  than  a  passing  regret  that 
another  good  man  had  left  the  world. 

Perhaps  it  is  my  misfortune  that  makes  me  feel 
differently  from,  other  men  in  regard  to  death. 
Certainly,  whatever  the  cause  of  my  feeling  may 
be,  I  have  no  fear  of  death  whatsoever.  I  can  see 
nothing  terrible  about  it  —  except  a  temporary 
pain  for  the  unfortunates  who  are  left.  I  suppose 


THE  PERSONAL  3 

this  is  the  reason  that  I  am  not  what  is  called  a 
coward.  The  ultimate  meaning  of  the  word  danger 
is  peril  of  death.  As  death  has  never  seemed  to 
me  a  peril,  rather  a  welcome  step  along  the  varia- 
ble line  of  eternity,  I  have  no  feeling  of  shrink- 
ing from  it.  I  take  no  pride  in  this  feeling  any 
more  than  I  do  in  my  rather  unusual  physical 
strength  (which  is  merely  another  chance  of  my 
existence),  but  I  find  it  hard  to  convince  others  of 
the  sincerity  of  my  feeling. 

But,  indeed,  I  have  never  had  much  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  convince  other  people  of  anything.  I  can 
hardly  remember  the  time  when  it  has  been  a  sur- 
prise to  me  to  see  the  startled  change  come  into 
people's  faces  as  they  noted  my  misfortune;  and 
yet  I  have  never  quite  ceased  to  be  hurt  in  some 
measure.  When  I  meet  some  new  person  and  have 
my  gloves  on  they  are  usually  kind  enough  to 
seem  frankly  pleased  with  me  —  and  then,  sooner 
or  later,  they  see  my  hands  and  the  pleasure  is  gone 
for  both  of  us. 

I  think  that  my  school-days  were  the  most  pain- 
ful ones  of  my  life,  for  children  are  very  cruel  to 
one  another  in  the  open  expression  of  their  emotions. 
I  do  not  mean  by  this  I  dislike  children;  for, 
on  the  contrary,  I  am  more  strongly  drawn  to  them 
than  I  am  to  grown-ups.  The  wounds  that  children 
inflict  are  involuntary ;  only  grown  animals  hurt  for 
the  pleasure  of  hurting. 


4     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Nevertheless,  it  was  very  hard  for  me  to  see 
healthy  boys  of  my  own  age,  few  of  whom  would 
shrink  from  holding  a  cold  toad  in  their  naked 
hands,  shrink  back  from  my  touch  as  if  it  were 
a  contagion.  I  could  beat  any  one  of  the  boys 
that  I  met  at  any  sport  or  feat  of  strength  that  he 
might  choose  to  suggest,  yet  I  had  never  a  friend 
in  all  my  years  of  schooling.  Nor  was  the  school 
proud  of  me  or  my  strength;  for  such  was  my 
dislike  of  drawing  any  more  attention  to  myself 
than  the  ordinary  events  of  life  made  necessary 
that  I  refused  to  take  part  in  any  public  contests, 
or  to  represent  my  school  in  any  athletic  games  with 
any  other. 

At  college  I  was  a  good  deal  more  happy;  for 
the  average  college  man  avoids  expression  of  sur- 
prise as  religiously  as  if  acceptance  of  the  unex- 
pected or  bizarre  were  a  part  of  his  creed  of  life. 
Still  I  made  no  friends.  I  have  thought  since 
that  perhaps  this  was  partly  my  own  fault,  that  I 
may  have  been  too  sensitive,  too  reluctant  to  burden 
others  with  the  weight  of  my  own  misfortune.  So 
I  went  my  own  way  alone,  reading  a  great  deal 
of  my  time  away,  and  not  particularly  excelling 
in  any  branch  of  my  regular  studies  except  perhaps 
in  physics  and  psychology. 

The  death  of  my  parents  came  a  few  weeks 
after  my  graduation,  and  I  spent  the  next  year  in 
straightening  out  my  father's  somewhat  tangled 


THE  PERSONAL  5 

affairs,  to  find  at  the  end  of  my  labor  that  when 
all  the  family  debts  had  been  paid  there  was  little 
left  to  divide  between  my  brother  and  myself; 
enough,  perhaps,  to  make  a  bare  living  income  for 
one  man.  My  father  left  no  will,  more  because 
he  hated  to  think  of  how  he  ought  to  distribute 
his  money  between  a  son  he  loved  and  one  he  did 
not,  than  from  any  other  reason,  I  think.  So 
I  took  five  hundred  dollars,  which  seemed  to  me 
sufficient  then  with  the  world  before  me,  and  set 
out  to  find  the  place  I  thought  the  world  must 
hold  for  me.  The  rest  of  our  inheritance  I  left 
to  my  brother.  He  was  not  strong,  but  was  a  hand- 
some, attractive  fellow,  with  an  inborn  love  of 
luxury.  As  he  had  no  training  nor  desire  for  work 
he  certainly  needed  what  fortune  there  was  more 
than  it  was  possible  that  I  ever  could. 

Yet  now,  as  I  sat  pondering  my  affairs  on  a 
bench  in  Washington  Square,  I  almost  wished  that 
we  had  arranged  to  have  my  share  at  least  five  hun- 
dred dollars  larger.  As  it  was,  the  arrangement  was 
final,  and  my  last  thought  would  be  to  go  back 
upon  it,  or  to  appeal  for  aid  which  I  knew  must 
be  a  drain  upon  the  far  from  satisfactory  income 
of  my  brother. 

It  was  one  of  the  brilliant  mornings  so  common 
to  the  last  days  of  May  in  New  York,  and  the 
Square  was  alive  with  children.  They  fluttered 
everywhere,  dainty,  occupied,  entrancing.  The 


benches  were  filled  with  nurses  and  mothers,  with 
here  and  there  an  old  gentleman  taking  the  sun, 
or  some  private,  like  myself,  in  the  great  army  of 
the  unemployed. 

The  old  gentleman  in  the  seat  next  me  had  been 
dozing  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour.  Finally  he 
awoke  with  a  start  and  looked  at  his  watch.  He 
drew  himself  up  as  if  the  hour  had  at  last  arrived 
when  he  must  set  himself  to  work  upon  his  multi- 
tudinous affairs.  I  smiled  in  sympathy  with  his 
waking  shrug. 

"  Half-past  eleven,  sir,"  said  he.  "  Indeed,  I 
must  be  going.  Would  you  care  to  glance  over 
the  morning  paper,  sir  ?  "  And  he  handed  me  the 
day's  Herald  that  he  had  been  nodding  over, 
stamped  his  left  leg  tentatively,  squared  his  shoul- 
ders with  insistent  vigor,  and  limped  away  in  the 
direction  of  Fifth  Avenue. 

I  looked  after  him  feeling  much  heartened  by  the 
old-fashioned  grace  of  his  friendly  courtesy,  and 
spread  his  paper  out  tenderly  upon  my  knees.  It 
was  the  first  gift  of  friendship  that,  as  far  as  I 
could  remember,  had  ever  been  offered  to  me  by 
any  hand  other  than  my  mother's. 

There  was  little  news.  There  had  been  a  .cne- 
ment  fire  on  Hester  Street,  Mrs.  Someone  had  given 
a  rather  notable  coaching  party,  and  some  obscure 
millionaire  on  upper  Fifth  Avenue  had  died  after 
five  years  of  mild  insanity.  I  was  glad  that  he 


THE  PERSONAL  7 

had  got  his  release,  and  turned  from  habit  to  the 
employment  column.  There  was  nothing  there  but 
the  same  old  catalogue  of  wants  that  experience 
had  taught  me  to  look  upon  as  hopeless.  Then, 
having  nothing  better  to  do,  I  turned  to  the  "  Per- 
sonal "  column,  that  bait  box  of  villainy,  that  mar- 
riage bureau  of  the  restlessly  sentimental.  There 
again  was  the  usual  thing,  the  long  line  of  "  Object 
Matrimony,"  and  then  with  a  quickened  interest 
my  eye  fell  on  the  following : 

"  A  gentleman  capable  of  deciding  on  the  instant 
may  become  financially  independent  for  life.  No 
applicant  will  be  considered  who  is  bound  by  any 
ties  whatsoever,  or  who  has  not  had  a  college  educa- 
tion. Apply  in  person  between  the  hours  of  four 

and  five  p.  M.  at  Lexington  Avenue,  to-day. 

"MR.  BARNABY." 

The  thing  was  in  all  probability  some  swindle, 
I  reflected,  and  yet  I  could  not  help  being  inter- 
ested —  for  I  seemed  to  myself  exactly  to  fill 
every  qualification.  Who  (more  especially  what 
college  man)  could  be  found  with  fewer  ties  than 
I  had?  As  for  deciding  any  matter  quickly,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  could  decide  upon  the  instant 
on  anything,  short  of  committing  a  crime,  that 
would  show  me  the  way  to  making  my  living. 

I  read  over  the  address  again  and  put  the  paper 
into  an  inside  pocket.  I  would  go,  for  I  had  noth- 


8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

ing  to  lose,  and  perhaps  there  was  really  something 
to  gain. 

But  first  I  decided  on  a  change  of  linen,  a  shave 
and  a  new  pair  of  gloves.  If  I  were  going  to  do 
the  thing  at  all,  I  might  as  well  do  it  as  a  gentle- 
man should.  No,  confound  it,  it  was  not  my 
necessity,  nor  my  poor  logic  which  was  leading  me 
into  this  new  path,  but  the  very  newness  of  the 
path  itself,  the  strange,  alluring  call  of  the  un- 
known. The  clouds  of  despondency  seemed  to 
clear  away  from  my  mind,  leaving  it  clean  swept 
for  whatever  might  be  before  me.  So  that  it  was 
with  a  light  heart  that  I  strode  out  under  the  Wash- 
ington Arch,  with  the  joyous  thrill  of  premoni- 
tion stirring  vaguely  at  my  heart's  roots. 


II 

THE   APPLICANTS 

I  LUNCHED  indolently  at  the  Cafe  Martin; 
for  I  had  some  time  to  kill,  and  I  knew  that 
I  could  meet  any  situation  the  more  easily  if  I 
had  eaten  and  eaten  well.  Then  I  smoked  the  most 
expensive  cigar  of  my  life.  This  lunch  seemed 
somehow  a  solemn  rite,  a  farewell  to  the  little  life 
that  I  had  led  in  my  isolation.  Of  course  I  dined 
gloved,  as  I  do  in  all  public  places.  Then,  as  I 
smoked  the  last  of  my  cigar,  I  walked  slowly  down 
to  Twenty-third  Street.  It  was  just  half-past  three 
as  I  stepped  on  board  a  Lexington  Avenue  car. 

On  the  car  I  watched  my  neighbors  lazily.  I 
hardly  seemed  myself,  my  adventure  was  so 
strongly  at  the  helm.  I  was  surprised  that  the 
car  took  so  short  a  time  to  make  the  journey  up- 
town. 

In  fact,  I  was  past  my  destination  before  I  knew 
it,  and  had  to  walk  back  two  blocks  and  a  half. 
The  number  corresponding  to  the  address-  given 
in  the  advertisement  was  over  the  door  of  a  private 
stable.  Nailed  to  the  front  of  the  building  was  a 
large  "  To  Let "  sign.  I  had  forgotten  my  sus- 

9 


io  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

picions  that  the  whole  thing  might  be  a  swindle 
or  a  hoax,  and  this  barrenness  of  promise  came 
to  me  with  a  decided  shock.  Indeed,  I  did  not 
stop  at  the  building  at  all,  but  walked  past  as  if 
the  matter  had  no  interest  for  me.  Then  I  glanced 
at  my  watch.  It  lacked  ten  minutes  of  the  hour,  so 
I  took  a  stroll  and  thought  the  situation  over. 
Then  I  came  to  my  senses.  If  7  were  going  to  be 
discouraged  by  a  mere  exterior,  what  could  I  ex- 
pect from  my  employer.  At  exactly  four  I  rang 
the  bell  beside  the  smaller  door  of  the  stable.  It 
was  one  of  the  large  folding  doors  that  was  opened ; 
however,  opened  barely  enough  to  admit  me,  and 
I  found  myself  in  a  large  dismantled  carriage  room 
where  about  thirty  other  men  were  sitting. 

Evidently  I  had  come  to  the  right  address. 
About  me  sat  men  of  all  ages  and  circumstances. 
Some  were  chatting  together  in  low  voices,  some 
sat  grimly  apart,  with  flushed  faces,  and  eyes  star- 
ing in  front  of  them.  One  man  sat  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands,  still  another  had  turned  his 
chair  so  that  he  sat  in  a  corner  with  his  face 
turned  toward  the  wall.  None  of  them  appeared 
altogether  at  his  ease. 

I  scanned  the  group  eagerly,  and  heaved  a  sigh 
of  relief.  As  far  as  I  could  see  there  was  no  one 
from  my  university,  or  any  one  that  I  had  ever 
seen  before.  Even  if  there  had  been,  I  was  too 
much  accustomed  to  see  men  look  at  me  askance 


THE  APPLICANTS  n 

to  have  cared  how  any  one  looked  at  me  here.  It 
seems  to  me  worse  to  look  ashamed  than  to  look 
afraid. 

I  took  a  chair  from  a  pile  in  one  corner  (they 
seemed  to  have  been  hired  for  the  occasion  from 
some  undertaker)  and  sat  myself  at  ease  to  await 
developments.  I  waited  the  full  hour  during  which 
the  only  interruptions  were  rings  at  the  bell,  the 
entrance  from  another  room  of  the  servant  who 
had  opened  the  door  for  me,  and  the  admittance 
of  other  candidates  for  lifelong  independence.  By 
the  time  a  rickety  little  alarm  clock  on  a  shelf  by 
the  harness  closet  showed  five  o'clock,  the  big  room 
was  full,  and  men  sat  with  chair  touching  chair. 
There  were  seventy-two  of  us. 

At  one  minute  past  five  the  servant  came  out 
again  from  the  other  room  and  locked  the  folding 
doors.  Then  he  worked  his  way  about  the  room, 
and  touched  a  man  at  random.  The  man  got  to 
his  feet,  his  face  paling  and  flushing  by  turn  and 
followed  the  servant  out  of  the  room.  The  door 
was  closed  behind  him. 

Three  minutes  afterward  another  of  us  was 
summoned  in  the  same  way,  and  so  it  continued. 
The  interviews  lasted  about  two  minutes  each,  al- 
though some  were  much  shorter  and  some  took 
nearly  five.  It  was  an  hour  and  a  half  before  half 
the  company  had  gone  through  the  little  door,  and 
my  turn  came.  I  had  quite  expected  to  be  among 


12  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

the  last,  and  was  just  hitching  my  chair  aside  to 
allow  the  summoner  to  pass  when  he  touched  me 
on  the  shoulder. 

I  arose  and  squared  my  shoulders,  threading  my 
way  after  him  among  the  chairs,  and,  as  he  held 
open  the  door,  I  gave  a  straightening  touch  to  my 
tie  and  stepped  before  him  into  the  next  room. 
He  followed  me,  closing  the  door  after  him. 

"  The  man  who  came  on  the  even  hour,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

It  was  the  small  room  common  to  many  city 
stables,  the  sanctum  of  the  head  coachman,  where 
bits  and  robes  are  usually  kept.  A  large  pine  table 
blocked  the  room  in  the  middle,  and  at  the  farther 
side  of  it  sat  one  of  the  strangest  men  that  I  had 
ever  seen.  His  shoulders  were  drawn  about  his 
ears,  and  his  hard  little  eyes  were  almost  hidden 
under  the  extraordinary,  long,  gray  bush  of  eye- 
brows that  shot  down  over  them.  His  nose  was 
wide  and  long,  the  only  fat  thing  in  the  shrunken 
leanness  of  his  face.  His  lips  and  chin  were  long 
also,  but  the  lips  set  tightly,  while  the  flesh  of  the 
pointed  chin  hung  loose,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was 
this  that  seemed  to  move  rather  than  the  lips. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  The  voice  was  low  and 
soft. 

"  Mason  Ellsworth,"  I  answered,  and  squared  my 
shoulders  while  he  was  writing  it  down  on  a  slip 
before  him. 


THE  APPLICANTS  13 

"College?" 

"  Yale." 

"Class?" 

"  190—" 

"  Step  nearer  to  the  window  and  turn  so  that 
I  may  see  you  thoroughly." 

I  went  over  to  the  window  and  turned  myself 
about  like  a  clothier's  dummy. 

"  That  is  sufficient,  Ellsworth,"  he  said,  when  I 
had  turned  twice  around  for  his  inspection ;  "  you 
won't  do." 

"  Why  ?  "  I  asked  sharply,  for  I  had  seldom  been 
treated  so  abruptly  before  I  had  removed  my  gloves. 

"  That  is  my  affair,  sir.  Peters,  open  the  door 
for  the  gentleman." 

I  turned  to  the  door  with  a  heavy  heart.  It 
seemed  I  would  not  even  pass  muster  among  the 
broken  men  who  answered  doubtful  "  Personals." 
But,  as  I  put  on  my  hat,  the  old  man  at  the  table 
recalled  me  sharply. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  Ellsworth,"  he  said.  "  Why 
were  you  tempted  to  answer  such  a  dubious  adver- 
tisement? " 

"  That  is  my  affair,"  I  answered ;  for  I  had  had 
enough  of  this  abrupt  inquisition. 

The  old  man  grinned  widely  and  his  chin  trem- 
bled like  a  rabbit's.  "  On  the  contrary  it  is  very 
much  my  affair.  Answer  my  question !  " 

I  was  thoroughly  angry.     What  right  had  this 


H     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

silver- voiced  old  ape  to  torture  me  if  he  had  al- 
ready determined  my  unfitness.  I  stepped  over  to 
the  table  and  slowly  drew  off  my  gloves,  stretching 
my  hands  across  the  table  to  him.  The  servant, 
by  the  door,  caught  his  breath  sibilantly. 

"  Sit  down,  Ellsworth,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
softly;  "perhaps  we  can  arrange  matters  after  all." 

I  sat  down  wonderingly.  Why  should  the 
world  be  turned  topsy-turvy?  Why  should  the 
very  thing  that  had  stood  in  the  way  of  my  fortune 
all  my  life  suddenly  turn  seemingly  to  my  advan- 
tage? Queerly  enough,  I  liked  the  old  man  at  the 
table  less  than  ever.  I  determined  not  to  advance 
one  step  in  the  affair  until  I  had  sifted  its  honesty 
to  the  very  bottom,  to  question  this  strange  man  as 
sharply  and  directly  as  he  questioned  me.  After 
all,  manual  labor  was  still  open  to  me;  I  was  as 
free  to  refuse  him  as  he  had  been  to  dismiss  me. 

"  I  would  rather  know  your  name  before  I  permit 
you  to  ask  further  questions,"  I  said. 

The  old  man  frowned,  and  then  nodded  slowly. 
"  You  shall  know  my  name  when  I  definitely  en- 
gage you.  Are  you,  or  have  you  ever  been  mar- 
ried?" 

I  moved  my  hands  upon  the  table. 

"  So  I  suppose,"  he  said.  "  Still  I  would  rather 
have  a  positive  answer.  Are  you  married,  sir?" 

"  Hardly,"  I  answered,  "  nor  am  I  like  to  be." 


THE  APPLICANTS  15 

His  chin  wobbled  amazingly.  "  And  you  have 
no  other  ties  whatsoever  ?  " 

"  None  whatsoever,"  I  said. 

"You  are  how  old?" 

"  Thirty-two." 

"  Are  you  perfectly  willing  to  break  off  all  com- 
munication with  your  friends,  or  to  communicate 
with  them  only  as  I  direct?  " 

"  I  have  no  friends."  I  tried  to  speak  indiffer- 
ently, but  could  not  altogether  keep  some  of  the 
pain  of  my  isolation  from  my  voice. 

It  seemed  as  if  this  pleased  him.  I  wondered  if 
he  were  not,  perhaps,  slightly  insane.  His  eye  was 
very  steady  and  direct,  however. 

"If  you  were  settled  in  the  country  on  a  com- 
fortable income,  would  you  be  willing  to  give  me 
your  word  to  remain  there,  or  to  move  only  upon 
my  consent  ?  " 

I  thought  this  over  for  a  moment.  Such  a  life 
would  feel  fettered  in  time  I  was  sure,  and  yet  even 
a  prospect  like  this  appealed  to  me  more  strongly 
than  any  I  had  ever  dared  to  dream  of.  "  Yes, 
I  would  agree  to  do  that,"  I  said  finally. 

"  Then  you  can  consider  yourself  engaged,  Mr. 
Ellsworth.  My  name  is  Ephraim  Bond.  Your 
income  will  be  about  thirty-one  hundred  dollars  a 
year." 

"  Are  you  not  going  a  little  fast,  Mr.  Bond  ?  " 


16  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

I  asked.  "  You  have  not  told  me  as  yet  how  I 
am  to  earn  this  money?  " 

"  Frankly,  Ellsworth,  you  ask  quite  too  many 
questions  to  please  me.  What  does  it  matter  to 
you  what  you  have  to  do?  I  give  you  my  word 
that  you  will  receive  the  income.  I  will  deed  the 
principal  to  that  effect  this  afternoon." 

"  Frankly,  Mr.  Bond,"  I  said,  with  rising  anger, 
"  I  don't  care  for  the  way  you  do  business.  I  do 
not  even  feel  certain  of  your  honesty.  Can  you 
tell  me  explicitly  what  it  is  you  want  me  to  do, 
or  shall  we  consider  the  interview  closed  ?  "  and 
I  began  putting  on  my  gloves. 

"  You're  a  young  fool,"  he  snapped  impatiently, 
"  and  I'm  an  old  fool  to  waste  my  time  over  you. 
There  are  forty  other  men  waiting  in  the  next 
room."  He  peered  at  me  from  beneath  the  over- 
hanging brows,  met  my  eye  and  looked  away. 
"  All  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  marry  my  niece,"  he 
fretfully  concluded.  "  She  is  rather  good  looking, 
if  that  is  of  any  interest  to  you." 

"  To  —  marry  —  your  niece  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Ellsworth,  marry  her.  There  is  nothing 
dishonest  in  that,  is  there?  " 

My  brain  whirled.  I  had  never  spoken  two 
words  to  any  other  grown  woman  than  my  mother 
in  my  life  since  I  had  entered  college.  God  knows 
I  had  dreamed  of  them  often  enough,  but  to  speak 


THE  APPLICANTS  17 

to  a  woman  in  friendship,  to  marry  her  —  the  very 
suggestion  of  it  dazed  me. 

"  But  the  lady —  ?  "  I  stammered. 

"  Is  perfectly  willing  to  marry  the  man  I  choose 
for  her." 

"  But  —  but  why  do  you  choose  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Bond  rose  abruptly  from  his  chair.  "  See 
here,  Ellsworth,"  he  said  coldly,  "  that  at  least  is 
none  of  your  business.  Perhaps  I  think  you  are 
the  finest  man  in  the  world.  Perhaps  I  like  the 
thought  of  you  because  I  am  sure  I  know  that  no 
other  woman  will  be  likely  to  tempt  you  —  once 
she  has  really  seen  you.  Come,  my  carriage  is 
waiting,  and  I  am  a  very  busy  man." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  come  now,  on  the  instant  ?  " 

"  I  thought  that  you  felt  sure  that  you  could 
decide  on  any  matter  quickly." 

"  I  will  come,"  said  I,  and  took  my  hat  from  the 
table.  At  least  I  would  find  out  what  the  thing  was 
all  about,  what  the  lady  had  to  say  in  the  matter. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  the  man  was  really  insane,  and 
this  girl,  whoever  she  was,  was  actually  in  need  of 
help. 

"  That's  better,"  said  Mr.  Bond.  "  Peters,  you 
may  dismiss  the  other  applicants." 


THE   CONTRACT 

WE  sat  in  silence  in  Ephraim  Bond's  closed 
coupe  during  the  drive  to  the  house.  I 
had  never  heard  of  my  employer  in  my  life,  and 
was  much  interested  in  watching  our  direction, 
speculating  with  a  certain  mental  detachment  as  we 
drove  along,  on  the  probable  neighborhood  of  his 
residence.  When  we  turned  into  Fifth  Avenue  I 
thought  that  we  were  about  to  cross  the  Park,  and 
was  no  little  surprised  that  our  course  continued 
straight  up-town.  But  my  surprise  was  even  greater 
when  we  drew  up  before  the  steps  of  a  large 
granite  house  in  the  upper  seventies. 

The  door  was  opened  for  us  by  a  gray-haired 
negro,  who  peered  at  me  almost  rudely,  and  shuffled 
into  the  darkness  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hallway, 
with  Mr.  Bond's  hat  and  cane.  Mr.  Bond,  himself, 
showed  me  the  way  into  a  reception-room,  which 
was  as  poorly  lighted  as  the  hall. 

"  I  will  call  my  niece,"  he  said  hurriedly,  and  as 
hurriedly  would  have  left  the  room  had  I  not  laid 
a  detaining  hand  on  his  sleeve. 

18 


THE  CONTRACT  19 

"  Just  one  moment,  Mr.  Bond,"  said  I ;  "  I  would 
like  to  see  your  niece  alone  before  there  is  any 
talk  of  this  marriage  between  us." 

"  I  see  no  reason  for  it,"  he  answered  coldly. 

"  I  do,"  I  said.  "  You  might  as  well  under- 
stand me,  once  and  for  all,  sir.  This  is,  I  think 
you  will  admit,  an  unusual  proceeding.  I  have  come 
with  you  so  far,  but  now  that  I  am  here  we  must 
deal  openly.  Not  only  must  your  niece  know  what 
manner  of  man  I  am,  but  I  must  also  be  sure  that 
she  moves  in  this  strange  affair  of  her  own  free 
will,  that  this  bargain  is  as  much  her  desire  as  it 
is  your  wish.  I  tell  you  she  will  be  a  strange 
woman  if  she  consents  without  coercion  to  marry 
a  man  branded  as  I  am." 

Ephraim  Bond  smiled  in  the  semi-darkness. 
"  You  are  very  suspicious,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  But, 
after  all,  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  not  satisfy 
your  cautious  nobility.  I  won't  intrude  at  all  on 
your  meeting.  My  niece  will  come  down  alone, 
and  you  can  introduce  yourselves." 

Before  I  could  answer  he  had  left  the  room. 

I  had  wished  to  question  him  further,  to  spare 
the  girl  the  embarrassment  of  any  awkward  step  on 
my  part ;  but  her  uncle's  leave-taking  had  been  so  ab- 
rupt that  I  was  left  with  my  questions  upon  my 
lips.  I  stepped  over  and  drew  the  heavy  window 
curtains  back  as  far  as  they  would  go,  letting  in 
a  little  of  the  waning  May  sunshine.  It  would 


20     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

be  well  for  two  people  embarking  upon  such  an 
enterprise,  for  this  unknown  girl  and  this  chance- 
found  man,  to  see  one  another  plainly,  to  meet 
face  to  face  in  the  open  sunlight 

I  wondered  what  sort  of  woman  she  would  prove 
to  be.  Her  uncle  seemed  very  sure  of  her,  of  the 
way  she  would  bear  herself  in  this  meeting  with  a 
strange  and  hideously  marked  man,  who  came  in  an- 
swer to  a  newspaper  advertisement  to  marry  her  for 
his  living.  Perhaps  she  was  unfortunate  in  some 
such  way  as  I  was,  I  thought,  or  in  some  pressing  dis- 
tress that  only  marriage  could  solve.  Perhaps, — 
but  the  portieres  parted  and  she  stood  hesitating  in 
the  doorway. 

I  stood  wide-eyed  and  trembling  in  my  place  by 
the  window.  I  could  see  her  quite  plainly  in  the 
better  light,  and  she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman 
I  had  ever  seen.  She  was  small,  but  straight  and 
fair,  with  wonderful  blue  eyes  that  turned  to  me 
wistfully.  I  thought  I  saw  in  them  something  of 
relief.  A  fierce  hatred  of  myself  and  of  my  little, 
sordid  speculations  swept  over  me.  I  wanted  to 
go  to  her,  and  beg  the  grace  of  her  forgiveness 
upon  my  knees,  but,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
I  was  desperately  afraid,  so  that  I  could  only  look 
at  her  and  tremble. 

"  My  uncle  sent  me  down,"  she  said  at  last ;  "  I 
am  Nancy  Bond." 

Then,  God  be  thanked,  some  flicker  of  manliness 


THE  CONTRACT  21 

came  back  to  me,  and  I   went  over  to  her,  and 
stretched  out  my  gloved  hand. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  am  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes.  You  are  the  man  who  has  been  chosen 
for  me  to  marry." 

"Yes,"  I  said  gravely.  "I  am  that  man;  but 
now,  God  help  me,  I  am  more.  I  am  the  man  who 
has  come,  to  marry  you,  if  you  will,  but  to  help 
you  to  the  best  of  his  poor  power  in  any  way  that 
you  may  desire." 

She  looked  at  me  in  a  sudden  surprise  and  flushed 
painfully. 

"  You  will  be  giving  me  more  than  I  have  the 
right  to  ask  in  fulfilling  my  uncle's  wish,"  she  said, 
and  in  some  way  the  formal  little  sentence  seemed 
to  me  all  of  tragedy. 

"  But  can  you  wish  it  too  ?  "  I  persisted,  as  gently 
as  I  could.  "  Forgive  me,  but  how  can  a  woman 
such  as  you  are  dare  trust  a  man  she  has  never 
seen?  Do  you  know  that  I  came  in  answer  to  a 
newspaper  advertisement,  that  I  came,  a  common' 
fortune  hunter,  at  your  uncle's  promise  of  money?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  know  that.  Let  us  not  talk 
of  it  any  longer.  You  are  a  gentleman,  as  my 
uncle  promised ;  that  is  all  that  I  need  to  know  for 
the  present.  I  dare  not  tell  you  everything  now; 
I  trust  you;  that  is  enough.  Come,  my  uncle  will 
be  growing  impatient." 

She  held  her  head  bravely,  but  tears  had  crept 


22  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

into  her  eyes,  and  her  cheeks  were  red  with  morti- 
fication. 

It  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  "  Surely,"  I  said, 
"  I  can  help  you  in  some  other  way  in  your  trouble." 

But  she  shook  her  head. 

"  Do  you  know  about  my  hands  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  something." 

"  But  you  must  know  more."  I  would  rather 
have  stood  naked  in  the  street  than  have  shown 
her  my  dreadful  hands,  but  I  shakingly  took  off 
my  gloves,  and  held  my  hands  in  the  light. 

She  drew  back  with  something  like  a  sob.  "  It 
was  very  like  Uncle  Ephraim,"  she  said  at  last. 

I  bowed  my  head  in  silence.  My  heart  was  chok- 
ing me.  Then  I  felt  her  hand  softly  upon  mine, 
and  looked  up  to  see  pity  in  her  eyes  and  the  tears 
now  flowing  freely  down  her  cheeks. 

"  You  are  very  brave,"  she  whispered  softly,  "  a 
very  brave  gentleman.  Help  me  to  be  brave  too; 
for  I  am  afraid  and  I  need  your  help." 

I  looked  beyond  her  with  new-found  courage, 
with  new  grace  to  meet  the  world,  and  eyes  that 
looked  yearningly  into  the  future.  Then  my 
thoughts  came  back  to  earth  again  with  a  rush;  for 
I  saw  that  the  portieres  at  the  door  were  gently 
moving,  and  the  gleam  of  an  eye  showed  flickeringly 
at  their  parting. 

I  strode  over  to  them  suddenly,  and  my  hand 
grasped  through  them  the  solid  arm  of  a  man. 


THE  CONTRACT  23 

With  a  wrench  it  was  torn  away  from  me.  I  slid 
the  curtains  back  with  a  jerk,  and  stepped  into  the 
hall.  I  glimpsed  a  moving  shape  at  the  dim  far- 
ther end;  then  a  door  opened  and  shut,  and  I  was 
alone  in  the  hall.  No,  not  alone,  for  behind  me 
stood  Nancy  Bond,  her  hand  to  her  heart  and  all 
the  flush  of  color  fled  from  her  face. 

I  turned  to  her  and  put  a  steadying  arm  about 
her  shoulders.  For  a  moment  she  leaned  weakly 
against  me,  shuddering  in  a  voiceless  terror;  then 
she  mastered  herself  somewhat,  and  stood  erect, 
while  my  arm  fell  back  again  to  my  side. 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  Did  you 
see  his  face  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  There  was  some  one,  but  he  got 
away  too  quickly.  It  was  probably  your  uncle, 
come  to  hear  how  well  he  might  trust  us.  There  is 
nothing  to  be  afraid  of."  Indeed,  now  I  thought 
of  it,  it  could  be  none  other,  and  yet  his  arm  had 
felt  more  muscular  than  I  should  have  expected. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  very  tricky  old  gentleman. 

But  Nancy  Bond  shook  her  head.  "  No,  it  was 
not  my  uncle,  I  do  not  think  it  was,  at  least.  Yet 
it  couldn't  have  been  — " 

"  Nancy !  "  Ephraim  Bond's  voice  sounded  softly 
from  the  head  of  the  stairs.  If  he  had  run  up 
by  the  back  way  he  certainly  showed  a  surprising 
activity  for  his  age.  Still,  who  could  it  have  been, 
who  was  it  that  had  so  driven  the  color  from 


24     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Nancy's  cheeks?  Had  she  just  stopped  short  of 
another  name  that,  as  yet,  I  knew  nothing  of?  I 
thought  all  these  things,  as  I  slowly  followed  the 
woman  I  was  going  to  marry  up  the  stairs. 

"  Going  to  marry,"  yes,  the  thing  was  decided 
now.  She  had  said  that  I  would  be  doing  her  a 
service,  she  had  overcome  with  the  tenderness  of 
her  pity  all  the  terror  of  my  misfortune,  she  had 
laid  her  white  hand  upon  the  red  horror  of  my 
own;  come  what  might,  be  the  mystery  what  it 
would,  I  would  marry  her.  She  could  direct  our 
future  as  she  would,  and  I  would  stand  ever  ready 
to  give  her  what  aid  I  could.  I  thanked  God,  as 
I  had  never  thanked  Him  before,  that  He  had 
made  me  strong,  with  the  courage  and  will  of  a 
strong  man.  And  resolving  these  things,  I  fol- 
lowed her  along  a  narrow  hall,  and  into  a  large 
front  room,  where  Ephraim  Bond  sat  hunched  and 
waiting. 

I  do  not  know  why  I  should  .have  been  surprised 
to  see  still  another  man  in  the  room,  but  somehow 
I  had  expected  to  find  Mr.  Bond  waiting  alone  to 
receive  us.  Perhaps  he  had  foreseen  that  I  would 
use  such  an  opportunity  to  question  him  further, 
that  I  would  wish  to  know  more  than*  I  had  been 
able  to  learn  in  my  short  interview  with  his  niece. 
At  any  rate,  sitting  in  the  bow  of  the  window  at 
the  far  side  of  the  room  was  a  young  man  of  about 
my  own  age,  a  young  man  dressed  in  ill-fitting 


THE  CONTRACT  25 

clericals.  Things  moved  swiftly  in  the  Bond  house- 
hold. 

"  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  my  employer  said  briskly, 
"  allow  me  to  present  Mr.  Stevens,  who  has  most 
kindly  consented  to  officiate.  Nancy,  you  remem- 
ber I  told  you  Henry  Stevens  was  a  distant  relative 
of  ours?  " 

Mr.  Bond's  voice  was  softer  than  ever;  Nancy 
bowed  her  head  in  silence;  Mr.  Stevens  smirked. 

In  fact,  this  young  man  smirked  a  good  deal  too 
much,  I  thought.  He  was  a  very  thin,  and  a  very 
blond  young  man,  with  watery,  wandering  blue 
eyes.  His  ears  flared  astonishingly,  and  he  picked 
continually  at  already  lacerated  ringer  ends.  His 
clerical  collar  formed  a  generous  wall  about  a  scanty 
neck,  whose  enormous  "  Adam's  apple "  steadily 
appeared  and  disappeared  behind  its  starchy  white 
rampart. 

"  Nancy,  you  will  please  call  Jonas.  Mr.  Ells- 
worth and  I  have  a  little  matter  of  business  here; 
Mr.  Stevens  will  excuse  us." 

Miss  Bond  left  the  room  silently,  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Stevens  obliterated  himself  in  the  bow-window, 
and  I  crossed  over  to  the  table  after  Ephraim  Bond. 
Three  papers  lay  upon  it.  The  first  was  a  marriage 
license  made  out  in  blank,  and  duly  signed  and 
sealed;  the  second  seemed  much  longer,  and  the 
third  was  evidently  a  deed  of  property. 

Mr.  Bond  indicated  them  to  me  with  a  wave  of 


26     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

his  hand,  and  seating  myself  deliberately,  I  took  up 
the  license. 

"  How  could  you  get  this  in  blank  ?  "  I  asked. 

Mr.  Bond  smiled.  "  I  have  some  acquaintance 
at  the  Bureau.  It  is  quite  correct,  or  will  be  when 
you  have  filled  in  your  name.  You  need  not  be 
afraid,  Mr.  Ellsworth." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  and  I  smiled  too.  It  would 
be  easy  to  take  out  another,  I  reflected.  In  fact, 
it  would  not  be  hard,  and  would  certainly  be  very 
much  safer,  quietly  to  repeat  this  whole  wedding 
before  some  county  clerk,  when  we  had  left  Mr. 
Bond  and  his  emaciated  protege  behind  us  in  that 
gloomy  house.  I  filled  in  my  name  carelessly  and 
handed  the  license  across  the  table  to  Mr.  Bond. 

The  next  paper  I  read  at  length.  It  was  a  re- 
lease and  an  agreement;  releasing  Ephraim  Bond 
from  any  further  payments  to  me,  and  binding  me 
to  the  terms  he  had  told  me  of  in  the  Lexington 
Avenue  stable,  or  rather  it  was  an  elaborate  ex- 
pression of  those  terms. 

"  This  should  have  been  made  in  duplicate,"  I 
observed  coldly,  for  I  was  anxious  that  he  should 
still  believe  that  I  was  driving  callous  bargains 
with  him. 

He  frowned.  "  There  is  absolutely  no  reason 
for  that,  Ellsworth,"  he  answered.  "  This  binds 
you  to  keep  faith  with  me.  As  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, I  cease  to  exist  for  you  as  soon  as  you  re- 


THE  CONTRACT  27 

ceive  your  payment;  I  owe  you  nothing  in  the 
future." 

This,  of  course,  I  knew  was  nonsense,  but  I  had, 
thank  God,  long  ceased  to  care  for  the  things  which 
had  led  me  first  to  answer  his  advertisement.  I 
had  spoken  to  a  woman  who  had  answered  me  in 
kindness.  While  she  kept  faith  I  could  afford  to 
trust  the  rest  of  the  world.  I  looked  up;  Nancy 
was  coming  in  at  the  door.  I  signed  the  paper  with 
I  knew  not  what  stirring  at  my  heart  and  taking  up 
the  last  document,  glanced  hastily  over  it.  It  was 
executed  with  all  the  proper  signatures  and  seals, 
and  gave  me  life  interest  in  certain  stocks  and 
bonds;  but  it  had  lost  its  first  importance,  and  I 
crammed  it  into  an  inside  pocket. 

Mr.  Bond  stood  up,  as  did  I,  and  the  minister 
came  forward  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  prayer- 
book  in  hand.  Nancy  Bond  came  and  stood  beside 
me.  She  was  very  pale,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
now  she  was  less  afraid.  At  a  word  from  her 
uncle  the  ceremony  commenced. 

A  wedding  ceremony  is  a  short  thing  after  all.  It 
surprised  me  that  such  a  contract  could  be  bound  so 
quickly;  and  to  my  unconscious  surprise,  we  both 
gave  our  responses  clearly,  repeating  them  after 
Mr.  Stevens  in  tones  much  steadier  than  his  own. 
For  a  minister  he  seemed  a  very  clumsily  fearful 
one. 

When  the  time  came  for  the  giving  of  a  ring, 


28     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Mr.  Bond  took  one  from  his  pocket,  a  bright  new 
one,  evidently  newly  bought.  But  I  shook  my 
head  at  him,  and  taking  from  my  own  pocket  a 
little,  soft  leather  case,  put  a  ring  of  my  own  upon 
my  wife's  finger.  It  had  been  the  other  woman's 
ring,  my  mother's ;  since  her  death  my  dearest  pos- 
session. For  the  first  time  since  the  beginning  of 
the  ceremony  I  thought  that  Nancy  trembled  a. 
little. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  I  found  that  we  were  man 
and  wife,  and  for  the  second  time  in  my  life  I  was  a 
little  frightened. 


IV 

ARRIVAL 

I  DID  not  offer  to  kiss  my  bride,  nor  did  any  of 
the  others.  Indeed,  except  for  Jonas,  who  had 
followed  Nancy  into  the  room,  and  with  Ephraim 
Bond  had  acted  as  witness  to  the  ceremony,  none 
of  us  showed  much  emotion.  But  Jonas'  black 
puzzled  face  exhibited  a  certain  disquietude,  which 
he  could  not  hide,  even  under  the  frown  of  his 
employer. 

Mr.  Stevens  seemed  very  nervous,  smirking  and 
scowling  in  maddening  repetition.  He  lingered 
only  a  moment,  then,  with  some  muttered  apology, 
left  the  room,  glancing  back  over  his  shoulder 
at  us,  till  his  thin  neck  looked  as  if  some  one  had 
been  trying  to  wring  it.  Mr.  Bond  did  not  even 
trouble  to  bid  him  good  day,  and  Jonas  was  far 
too  engrossed  with  his  thoughts  to  show  him  the 
door.  He  must  have  let  himself  out  unassisted. 

When  he  had  gone,  Mr.  Bond  wheeled  upon  the 
trembling  negro. 

'  You  are  a  fool,"  he  said.  "  Leave  the  room, 
and  see  that  you  stay  in  your  pantry  until  I  ring 
if  or  you." 

29 


go  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"But,  Mistah  Bond,  did—?  P'r'aps  I  ought 
to  in f ohm  yoh  that  — " 

"  Leave  the  room.  Do  you  hear  me?  Leave 
the  room ! "  Ephraim  Bond's  voice  was  sharper 
than  I  had  heard  it,  and  the  old  negro  went  hesi- 
tatingly out  of  the  room,  as  if  he  were  giving  up 
a  duty  unwillingly  and  apprehensively.  Just  as 
he  reached  the  door  he  looked  back  and  nodded 
with  evident  meaning  to  his  employer,  and  what 
color  the  marriage  service  had  left  her,  vanished 
from  Nancy's  face  before  my  eyes.  Ephraim  Bond 
made  a  half  movement  toward  the  door,  and  Jonas 
fled.  We  could  hear  the  clattering  shuffle  of  his 
feet  on  the  back  stairs.  Below,  one  door  shut  softly 
and  another  banged.  Then  all  the  house  was 
quiet. 

"  Here  are  your  railroad  tickets,  Mr.  Ellsworth," 
and  Mr.  Bond  held  out  an  envelope  to  me ;  "  you 
will  find  my  carriage  waiting  for  you  at  the  door. 
Nancy,  you  know  me;  you  can  perhaps  advise  your 
husband  about  my  whims,  but,  even  to  her  hus- 
band, a  woman  is  safer  in  not  telling  all  she  knows. 
I  will  see  you  as  far  as  the  door  myself." 

We  started  after  him.  Nancy  was  trembling  so 
now,  that  I  took  her  hand  and  tucked  it  under  my 
arm.  I  held  it  so  until  I  helped  her  into  the  car- 
riage. I  noticed  that  a  small  trunk  and  a  hand- 
bag were  up  beside  the  coachman,  then  I  stepped 
in  and  closed  the  carriage  door  upon  us ;  the  coach- 


ARRIVAL  31 

man  touched  the  horse  with  his  whip,  and  we  were 
off.  When  we  had  driven  a  block,  I  looked  out 
through  the  small  window  in  the  back.  Ephraim 
Bond  still  stood  in  the  outer  vestibule,  but  he  was 
not  looking  after  us,  but  had  turned,  and  seemed 
to  be  watching  a  tall  man  in  a  brown  derby  hat, 
who  was  running  after  a  bus  in  the  other  direc- 
tion. 

A  low  sob  caught  my  ear,  and  I  dropped  the 
little  curtain.  Nancy  had  drawn  herself  deep  into 
her  corner,  and  was  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

For  a  long  time  I  watched  her  in  silence.  She 
cried  steadily,  her  face  buried  in  her  arm.  It  hurt 
me  more  than  anything  ever  had,  and  yet  what 
could  I  do,  what  comfort  could  I  give  a  woman  I 
had  so  married  ?  It  was  even  possible  that  my  very 
presence  was  the  reason  of  her  tears.  Finally  I 
stretched  out  a  hand  to  her  timidly. 

At  my  touch  upon  her  arm  she  looked  up,  and 
although  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  her  sobs 
still  came  gaspingly,  she  smiled  into  my  eyes. 

"  Are  you  so  unhappy  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  No,  I  am  not  unhappy  —  I  —  I  am  free.  We 
have  really  left  that  dreadful  house,  have  we  not? 
Do  you  wonder  that  I  must  cry  a  little  —  I  have 
held  myself  so  long,  and  now  I  am  here.  You 
will  never  let  them  take  me  back,  will  you?  " 

"  Never !  "  I  promised.     I  ached  to  take  her  in 


32     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

my  arms,  that  she  might  feel  the  strength  of  me, 
the  absolute  certainty  of  my  protection.  But  I 
let  her  rest  quiet,  all  alone  in  her  corner,  to  sob 
the  weight  of  her  fear  away.  For  myself  I  had 
much  to  think  of,  a  future  to  plan,  a  lifetime  to 
consider,  but  I  let  the  future  go  for  the  moment. 
To  sit  and  watch  her,  curled  there  beside  me  in 
the  great  carriage,  was  a  pleasure  too  sweet  to 
miss. 

As  our  carriage  turned  into  Twenty-third  Street, 
my  wife  sat  up  and  dried  her  tears,  smoothing  the 
disarray  of  her  hair,  and  setting  her  dress  to  rights 
with  little  pats  and  shakes  that  were  wonderful 
to  see.  This  was  better,  and  I  was  much  com- 
forted. For  if  she  could  take  thought  of  these 
things  she  was  surely  getting  away  from  her  fright 
and  sorrow.  I  could  not  keep  from  wondering, 
even  at  that  moment,  what  she  feared  and  what 
she  had  suffered,  and  in  what  manner  she  had  been 
persuaded  to  give  herself  to  me  so  docilely.  I 
would  question  her  as  soon  as  I  dared,  I  thought, 
as  soon  as  she  was  strong  enough  and  composed 
enough  to  talk  over  such  matters  with  me.  It 
would  be  best  for  us  both  that  I  should  know  some- 
thing of  her  life,  that  I  should  be  prepared  to  meet 
the  future.  But,  still,  there  was  time  enough;  I 
would  not  trouble  her  with  questions  until  I  knew 
that  she  was  ready  for  their  answering. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  she  asked. 


ARRIVAL  33 

"  I  thought  that  you  knew,"  I  said.  "  I  haven't 
looked  yet.  Let  us  see."  And  I  put  my  hand  in 
my  pocket  and  drew  out  the  envelope.  Nancy  came 
out  a  little  from  her  corner. 

In  the  envelope  were  ten  ten-dollar  bills,  a  lease 
for  a  twenty-acre  farm,  and  tickets  reading  to 
Marbury,  a  town  evidently  somewhere  on  the  line 
of  the  Pennsylvania  railroad. 

"  We  are  going  to  be  buried,"  I  said.  "  Does  the 
prospect  frighten  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  me,  but  she  did  not  look  as 
if  she  were  afraid.  Our  carriage  was  drawing  up 
before  the  Pennsylvania  ferry  house.  I  put  the 
envelope  with  the  money  and  the  lease  back  in  my 
inside  coat  pocket,  but  kept  the  tickets  in  my  hand. 
A  porter  took  down  our  luggage,  and  I  checked  the 
trunk,  then  I  stepped  to  the  ticket  office,  and  in- 
quired of  the  agent  the  whereabouts  of  Marbury. 
He  said  it  was  a  local  station  about  thirty-five 
minutes  from  Philadelphia.  The  express,  he  told 
me,  was  just  about  to  leave;  it  would  make  fair 
connections  with  my  local  at  Philadelphia.  I 
turned  to  find  Nancy,  for  the  time  was  nearly  up. 
But  Nancy  was  at  my  elbow. 

"  Oh,  hurry ! "  she  said,  and  caught  me  by  the 
sleeve. 

'  There  is  plenty  of  time,"  I  answered ;  "  we  have 
two  full  minutes  yet."  I  glanced  up  at  the  clock. 
It  was  a  little  later  than  I  had  thought.  Outside 


34 

there  was  a  hansom  drawing  up  with  a  terrific 
clatter.  "  There  is  a  man,"  thought  I,  "  who  is 
later  than  we  are." 

Nancy  tugged  again  at  my  arm.  She  looked 
frightened  now,  so  I  ran  after  her  through  the  gate, 
and  it  was  very  lucky  that  I  did,  for  it  shut  after 
us.  We  were  the  last  people  through,  and  I  felt 
rather  sorry  for  the  man  who  had  driven  up  in  such  a 
hurry,  only  to  miss  the  boat  and  his  train.  As 
we  stepped  upon  the  boat  I  looked  back,  and  saw 
his  brown  hat  bobbing  with  the  force  of  the  alter- 
cation he  was  holding  with  the  gateman  through 
the  bars.  Already  the  space  between  the  boat  and 
the  pier  was  beginning  to  widen,  and  Nancy's 
clutch  upon  my  sleeve  was  slowly  loosening.  After 
a  minute  she  withdrew  her  hand. 

"  Let  us  go  out  in  front,"  she  said.  "  I  love  the 
breeze.  I  feel  as  if  it  would  blow  all  the  little  ter- 
rors one  had  away." 

We  talked  but  little  all  the  way  to  Philadelphia. 
Nancy  curled  up  in  her  chair,  and  pretended  to  be 
asleep,  and  I  watched  her,  planning,  as  best  I  could, 
what  our  future  should  be.  Once  or  twice  she  drew 
a  little  shivering  sigh,  and  after  a  time,  her  foot 
touched  mine.  I  did  not  know  whether  she  did  it 
knowingly,  whether  she  felt  some  closer  protection 
in  the  touch,  but  I  did  not  move,  and  held  my- 
self very  still,  insanely  happy  at  what  I  knew  might 
be  an  entirely  unconscious  movement  on  her  part. 


ARRIVAL  35 

For  I  loved  her.  I  knew,  now,  that  however  she 
might  come  to  think  of  me,  this  woman,  who 
was  my  wife,  was,  and  always  would  be,  dearer  to 
me  than  anything  else  in  the  world. 

I  am  not  sure  when  this  first  came  to  me,  when 
I  first  knew  that  I  had  found  my  love,  but  I  think 
that  I  loved  her  from  the  moment  when  I  saw 
her  standing  in  the  door  of  Ephraim  Bond's  recep- 
tion-room, I  know  that  I  loved  her  when  she  had 
touched  my  hand  in  pity  and  in  friendship.  So,  as 
we  rushed  through  the  May  beauty  of  northern 
New  Jersey,  on  into  the  still  more  verdant  green 
of  Pennsylvania,  I  sat  very  stiffly  still  indeed,  with 
my  whole  heart  athrill  at  the  magic  of  her  touch, 
my  affliction  forgotten,  and  the  joy  and  strength 
of  youth  pulsing  dizzily  at  my  brain.  Two  old 
ladies  across  the  aisle  looked  at  me  and  smiled.  It 
was  evident  that  they  approved  of  my  choice  of  a 
wife. 

A  grinning  porter,  brush  in  hand,  stopped  beside 
my  chair,  but  I  would  have  none  of  him.  We  were 
drawing  into  Philadelphia  and  every  moment  was 
precious.  Then  Nancy  opened  her  eyes  and  looked 
about  her  for  her  satchel.  The  train  had  stopped. 

We  waited  twenty  minutes  for  our  local,  while 
Nancy  talked  nervously  about  whatever  she  saw 
before  us,  and  kept  a  restless  watch  upon  the  people 
who  passed.  The  poor  child,  I  thought,  was  not 
quite  able,  as  yet,  to  put  her  past  fears  aside. 


36     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

The  local  was  so  crowded  that  we  could  get  no 
seat  together,  and  I  was  forced  to  content  myself 
with  sitting  just  behind  her.  She  turned  her  head 
from  time  to  time  to  see  that  I  was  still  near  to 
her,  and  I  determined  that  I  would  put  off  no  longer 
than  I  could  help,  finding  out  what  this  fear  was 
that  she  was  unable  to  leave  behind. 

At  the  Marbury  station  I  found  some  sort  of 
conveyance,  and  gave  the  driver  directions  to  drive 
to  the  Butler  Farm,  as  it  was  named  in  the  lease. 
He  grumbled  a  little,  saying  that  it  was  three  miles 
away,  but  at  last  we  came  to  an  agreement,  and 
my  wife  and  I  started  on  our  first  drive  to  our  new 
home.  She  sat  very  close  to  me  all  through  the 
jolting  trip,  that  seemed  to  me  so  short;  for  night 
had  fallen  and  it  had  grown  very  dark. 

We  found  the  house  in  order  and  although  a  cold 
supper  was  laid  out  for  us  on  the  dining-room  table, 
the  lamps  were  unlighted,  and  there  was  no  one  to 
receive  us.  I  soon  had  a  light,  however,  and  made 
Nancy  eat  a  little  supper.  I  ate  something  myself, 
but  did  not  remove  my  gloves.  For  the  time  my 
dream  must  be  laid  aside. 

When  we  had  eaten,  I  rose  from  my  chair  and 
stood  before  my  wife.  She  looked  up  at  me,  and 
her  face  seemed  very  tired  and  pale  in  the  lamp- 
light. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  I,  "  why  you  married  me." 


ARRIVAL  37 

Her  eyes  smiled  up  into  mine.  "  Because  I  was 
afraid  to  stay  any  longer  in  that  house." 

I  bowed  my  head.     It  was  what  I  had  thought. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  about  it  sometime?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  when  you  wish." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said. 

We  were  silent  for  a  little  while,  then  I  took  up 
the  light. 

"  You  must  be  very  tired,"  I  said ;  "  we  will  find 
your  room.  I  will  sleep  somewhere  within  call,  so 
you  need  have  no  fear  of  all  the  things  that  used 
to  trouble  you.  You  have  been  more  kind  than 
any  one  but  my  mother  has  ever  been  to  me.  I 
hope  that  we  may  grow  to  be  friends  in  our  exile. 
Now  let  us  look  for  your  room." 

On  the  next  floor  we  found  a  room  that  had 
evidently  been  made  ready  for  us,  and  I  gave  her 
the  lamp. 

"  I  hope  you  will  sleep  well,"  I  said.  "  See,  I 
will  take  this  room  just  across  the  hall." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  me,  and  I  held  it 
in  my  own  for  a  fleeting  second.  Then  I  turned 
and  opened  my  own  door. 

"  Please,"  she  said,  and  I  saw  her  still  standing 
in  her  doorway,  "  please,  would  you  mind  leaving 
your  door  ajar?  " 


V 

ALARMS 

THE  room  that  I  had  chosen  was  bare,  all  its 
furniture  consisting  of  a  bed,  a  washstand, 
and  a  bureau,  all  of  the  plainest  wood.  On  the 
floor,  however,  was  a  rag  carpet  that  was  a  thing  of 
beauty. 

It  was  useless  for  me  to  pretend,  even  to  myself, 
that  I  had  any  thoughts  of  going  to  bed.  The  day 
had  been  too  momentous  for  me  to  think  of  for- 
getting it  in  sleep,  until  I  had  had  at  least  time 
to  review  its  events  in  my  mind,  to  adjust  myself  to 
the  life,  that,  of  a  sudden,  I  found  myself  com- 
mitted to  lead.  I,  who  had  that  morning  been  an 
irresponsible  young  man,  a  rejected  applicant  for 
work,  a  lounger  on  a  park  bench,  found  myself  to- 
night a  man  of  some  means,  a  man  in  love,  with 
the  woman  I  loved  alone  in  my  care,  a  woman  who 
might  or  might  not  be  my  legal  wife. 

About  my  attitude  toward  Nancy  I  had  no 
doubts  whatsoever.  She  had  consented  to  this 
strange  marriage  because  she  had  felt  some  trust  in 
me,  or,  at  any  rate,  because  she  hoped  that  life  in 
my  care  would  be  endurable;  not  because  she  loved 

38 


ALARMS  39 

me.  Whether  our  marriage  had  been  legal  or  not, 
I  should  consider  that  I  alone  was  bound,  that,  un- 
less she  could  come  to  love  me  in  some  measure  as 
I  loved  her,  I  would  never  allow  myself  to  think  of 
her  in  any  other  way  than  a  woman  whose  well- 
being  and  happiness  fate  had  given  into  my  care  as 
a  sacred  trust,  to  be  freely  rendered  her  should  she 
find  some  protector  more  worthy  of  their  keeping, 
in  her  eyes,  than  I.  But  I  prayed  a  great  prayer 
that  such  an  one  might  never  come,  that  Nancy 
herself  might  perhaps  by  some  miracle  come  to  re- 
turn my  love. 

I  had  no  doubt  that  Ephraim  Bond,  himself,  was, 
in  some  mysterious  way,  the  fountain  head  of  all 
her  fears ;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  find  out 
the  very  last  of  them  and  that  that  soft-spoken 
old  gentleman  should  come  to  know  what  manner 
of  man  I  was.  He  may  have  judged  me  of  a  timid 
nature,  I  had  traveled  from  office  to  office  so  long, 
and  had  so  long  rather  shrunk  from  any  searching 
scrutiny  by  my  fellows.  But,  as  I  have  said,  I  am 
not  by  nature  timid,  and  he  should  come  to  know 
this  clearly  if,  indeed,  he  had  had  any  hand  in  the 
terrors  of  his  niece.  My  infirmity  should  trouble 
me  not  at  all  where  the  affairs  of  my  love  were 
concerned,  where  any  sought  to  do  evil  to  her  happi- 
ness. 

The  moon  had  risen  and  was  casting  the  long 
shadows  of  the  trees  in  dainty  lacery.  Our  house 


40  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

was  set  at  some  distance  from  the  main  road,  at 
the  end  of  a  winding  lane.  It  was  pleasant  to  be 
so  out  of  the  hum  of  affairs,  so  thrown  by  the 
nature, .of  our  very  surroundings  into  one  another's 
society.  If  ever  a  man  was  given  a  chance  to  show 
himself  plainly  to  the  eyes  of  his  love  I  bade  fair  to 
be  that  man.  I  smiled  as  I  looked  out  upon  the 
silver,  moonlit  ribbon  of  our  lane.  Then  every 
muscle  in  my  body  grew  tense,  for  the  dark  shadow 
of  a  man  had  moved  from  the  shade  of  one  great 
tree  to  another. 

I  tiptoed  quickly  to  Nancy's  door  and  listened. 
There  was  no  sound,  and  I  was  glad  that  she  was 
tired  enough  to  sleep  in  the  face  of  all  that  she 
had  gone  through.  Then  I  stole  as  softly  as  I 
could  down  the  creaking  stairs,  and  let  myself  out 
at  the  front  door,  creeping  from  the  porch  in  the 
fortunate  shelter  of  the  vines.  Almost  on  hands  and 
knees  I  worked  myself  down  the  winding  lane,  tak- 
ing little  short-cuts  when  I  could '  with  safety. 
When  I  had  got  some  distance  from  the  house  I 
stopped  and  waited  behind  a  great  clump  of  hy- 
drangeas. 

The  man,  I  considered  with  myself  in  my  hiding 
place,  was  in  all  probability  intruding  innocently 
enough.  He  might  be  a  tramp  looking  for  some 
hay-stack  or  outbuilding,  where  he  could  rest  for 
the  night,  or  he  might  be  some  native  of  the  place 


ALARMS  41 

spying  curiously  upon  the  new  arrivals;  for  our 
coming  must  have  smacked  somewhat  of  mystery. 
But  his  approach  had  seemed  to  me  unnecessarily 
stealthy.  I  had  too  much  to  guard  to  be  a  sloth- 
ful guardian.  I  would  at  least  give  this  intruder 
a  healthy  shock  of  surprise.  Of  a  sudden  the  man 
himself  stole  into  the  shadow  of  my  bush,  bending 
nearly  double,  as  I  had  bent.  He  meant  no  honest 
thing  certainly. 

I  rose  and  softly  took  him  by  the  throat,  and, 
with  tightening  fingers,  choked  the  scream  that 
struggled  there. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? "  I  asked  in  a 
whisper. 

The  shadow  was  so  intense  that  I  could  not  see 
his  face,  but  his  arms  waved  convulsively  in  the 
darkness;  I  had  not  used  my  strength  in  so  long 
a  time  that  I  had  forgotten  its  power  and  how 
to  temper  it.  I  loosened  my  fingers  a  little,  and 
he  drew  a  whistling  breath,  then,  with  his  right 
fist  he  struck  me  with  all  his  strength  between  the 
eyes,  so  that  I  reeled  back  from  him,  tearing  his 
collar  and  tie  away  in  my  slipping  clutch. 

By  the  time  that  I  was  on  my  feet  again  he  was 
already  some  distance  down  the  lane.  I  started  to 
run  silently  after  him;  a  shout,  I  feared,  might 
awaken  Nancy  from  the  sleep  she  so  needed.  He 
turned  his  head  a  little  and  saw  that  I  was  gaining 


42     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

on  him.  For  a  second  his  pace  slackened.  Then  he 
turned  himself  squarely  about,  and  fired  twice  at 
me  with  leveled  revolver. 

The  shots  rang  out  in  the  stillness,  like  the  thunder 
of  a  cannon.  I  turned  and  ran  at  the  top  of  my 
speed  back  to  the  house,  for  I  was  very  much  afraid 
the  shots  might  have  awakened  Nancy. 

I  had  left  the  front  door  unlatched  so  that  I  let 
myself  in  without  a  sound,  and,  remembering  the 
stairs  that  had  creaked  in  my  descent,  I  was  able 
to  gain  the  second  floor  almost  noiselessly.  I  lis- 
tened again  at  Nancy's  door.  She  was  moving 
softly  about  the  room,  and  I  thought  that  I  could 
hear  the  rustle  of  clothes,  as  if  she  were  dressing. 

"  Did  you  call  me  ?  "  I  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  speaking  as  softly  as  I  had, 
"  but  I  thought  that  I  heard  you  go  out,  and  then 
some  one  fired  a  revolver.  Was  it  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said ;  "  it  was  probably  some  village 
roisterer,  who  found  the  night  too  quiet  for  him. 
'Go  back  and  get  all  the  sleep  you  can;  we  have 
all  our  domain  to  explore  in  the  morning." 

"  Have  you  been  out  of  the  house  ?  " 

I  hesitated  a  moment.  On  the  whole  it  would  be 
better  not  to  let  her  think  that  I  had  even  been 
worried. 

"  No,"  I  answered  finally. 

Her  door  swung  open,  and  she  stood  before  me, 
completely  dressed.  She  looked  at  me  for  a  long 


ALARMS  43 

time  without  a  word.  It  was  an  effort  not  to  drop 
my  eyes  before  the  searching  inquiry  of  hers. 

"  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  she  asked  at  last,  "  why  is  it 
necessary  to  lie  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  lying." 

"Oh!  "  she  cried,  "  why  do  you  say  that?  You 
know  that  you  have  been  away,  you  whom  I  trusted 
to  stay  within  call,  whom  I  have  trusted  enough  to 
think  that  I  might  have  the  truth.  Have  I  not 
trusted  you  in  everything?  Every  one,  every  one,  I 
tell  you,  has  lied  to  me  for  the  last  five  years,  every 
one  has  cheated  me  and  betrayed  me  —  till  to-day 
you  came  —  and  now  you  see  fit  to  lie  to  me  too !  " 

She  turned  her  head  away  from  me  and  a  sob 
struggled  at  her  voice.  I  was  too  much  hurt,  too 
much  ashamed  to  answer,  but  stood  with  bowed 
head,  cursing  my  shortsightedness,  not  knowing 
what  to  say.  But  I  could  not  endure  the  sound  of 
her  weeping. 

"  I  will  lie  no  more,"  I  said. 

She  raised  her  lamp  to  see  me  the  more  plainly,  to 
read  if  this,  too,  were  a  lie.  Her  face  went  white. 
I  took  the  lamp  from  her  and  set  it  on  a  little  table 
in  the  hall. 

"  Are  you  hurt  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Tell  me,  are  you 
hurt?" 

"  It  is  only  a  scratch !  "  I  laughed ;  "  some  fool 
thought  I  was  the  devil,  and  punched  me  for  my 
interference." 


44     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

She  came  very  close  to  me,  and  touched  my  fore- 
head with  one  soft  hand,  then  held  it  suddenly  to 
the  light.  There  was  a  little  stain  of  blood  on  it. 

"  Mason !  Mason !  "  she  cried,  and  her  hands 
went  to  my  shoulders,  "  is  that  all,  are  you  quite 
sure  that  that  was  all  ?  You  are  not  wounded,  are 
you?  Oh,  tell  me  the  truth!  You  have  no  right 
to  hide  such  a  thing  from  me ! " 

"  No,  I  am  not  hurt,"  I  answered  gruffly,  for  her 
touch  unsteadied  me.  Then,  because  I  could  not 
help  it,  and  she  was  very  near,  "  Would  it  make 
any  difference  to  you  if  I  were?" 

She  did  not  answer  me,  she  did  not  even  look 
up,  and  I  grew  very  much  ashamed.  A  puff  of  air 
blew  down  the  hall;  the  lamp  flickered  and  went 
out.  Her  hands  dropped  from  my  shoulders. 

"Will  you  forgive  me?"  I  asked,  after  what 
seemed  an  age  there  in  the  dark. 

There  was  another  long  silence,  and  I  thought  that 
I  heard  her  sob  again  very  softly.  Then  her  hand 
touched  mine.  "  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  she 
said  wearily.  "  Good  night." 

For  a  little  I  stood  in  the  hall,  then  I  went  into 
my  own  room,  leaving  my  door  ajar.  I  sat  in  my 
chair  by  the  window,  dizzy  and  sick  and  perplexed, 
wild  hopes  and  dull  despair  gripping  me  ever  and  in 
turn.  Then  I  heard  the  soft  click  of  her  door  again. 
She  had  set  it  ajar.  I  threw  myself  dressed  upon 
my  bed.  In  a  moment  I  was  asleep. 


VI 

ADJUSTMENT 

I  AWOKE  rather  late  the  next  morning.  In  fact, 
my  first  glance  at  my  watch  made  me  spring 
from  my  bed  in  horror.  It  was  long  past  eight 
o'clock.  There  had  been  no  sign  of  any  servant 
about  the  place  the  night  before,  and,  for  all  I 
knew,  Nancy  might  have  been  up  an  hour  or  so 
and  waiting  for  her  breakfast.  I  stripped  and 
bathed  hurriedly,  dressing  again  rapidly  and 
smoothing  out  my  rumpled  clothes  as  best  I  could. 
One  of  my  pockets  bulged  insistently,  and  I  put 
in  my  hand  to  find  out  the  cause  of  it.  To  my 
surprise,  I  drew  out  the  collar  and  necktie  that  had 
been  so  suddenly  left  in  my  hand  the  night  before. 
They  were  much  torn  but  seemed  to  be  of  good 
make.  I  put  them  carefully  in  my  drawer,  with 
some  vague  idea  of  looking  them  over  more  closely 
in  the  future.  I  was  irritated  that  the  bruise  on 
my  forehead  had  blackened  during  the  night.  But 
I  had  no  time  to  waste  over  my  personal  appear- 
ance ;  so,  opening  my  door,  I  ran  down-stairs,  with 
the  guilty  feeling  that  comes  of  the  consciousness  of 
having  overslept.  Nevertheless  I  was  strangely 

45 


46  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

light  of  heart.  I  was  very  thankful  not  to  find 
Nancy  waiting  for  me. 

Some  one  was  bustling  about  in  the  kitchen.  It 
promised  well.  Probably  Ephraim  Bond  had  en- 
gaged us  a  servant,  after  all.  At  least  the  fire 
would  be  lighted,  I  thought;  that  was  half  the  bat- 
tle. With  a  fire  I  could  make  shift  to  get  break- 
fast myself. 

A  little  woman,  done  up  in  a  great  brown  apron, 
was  standing  over  the  range  as  I  came  in.  She 
turned  a  very  rosy  face  to  me,  as  she  heard  my 
step.  It  was  a  new,  changed  Nancy,  the  most  ab- 
surdly delicious  little  housewife  imaginable. 

"  Good  morning,"  I  stammered ;  "  who  made  the 
fire?" 

"  I  did,  of  course ;  there  was  no  one  else  awake 
when  I  came  down."  She  seemed  faintly  amused 
at  my  confusion.  "  I  got  along  very  well  by  myself," 
she  laughed.  "  I  hope  you  like  eggs.  I  was  afraid 
to  try  anything  more  ambitious.  Besides,  there 
wasn't  a  great  variety  of  things  in  the  cupboard. 
I  shall  have  to  do  a  great  deal  of  marketing  to- 
day." She  hesitated  a  moment.  "  Have  we  any 
money?"  With  the  question  her  color  came,  but 
she  asked  it  sweetly  and  straightforwardly. 

"  I  have  fifty  dollars,"  I  replied.  "  Your  uncle 
gave  me  a  hundred.  I  suppose  that  more  will  be 
coming  in  soon.  I  wish,  though,  that  we  weren't 
going  to  have  to  use  that  money ;  I  hate  the  thought 


ADJUSTMENT  47 

of  it  to-day.  Fortunately  the  fifty  dollars  is  my 
own,  about  all  I  have  left." 

Nancy  laughed.  "  I  don't  think  that  you  need 
have  any  scruples  about  using  the  income  money. 
I  am  sure  that  you  have  been  doing  all  that  a  man 
could  to  earn  it.  Uncle  Ephraim  never  pays  for 
more  than  value  received." 

"  Let  us  not  talk  of  him,"  said  I,  "  or  at  least,  not 
until  after  breakfast  Let  me  help  you.  I  think  I 
can  make  coffee." 

Nancy  paused  abruptly  in  her  bustle  of  setting  the 
kitchen  table. 

"  Take  off  your  gloves,"  she  said.  "  No  one  ever 
heard  of  a  man  making  coffee  in  gloves." 

"  But  — "  I  stammered,  and  stood  hesitating. 

Nancy  came  over  and  stood  squarely  in  front  of 
me.  "  We  might  as  well  get  over  this  foolishness 
first  as  last.  Take  off  your  gloves." 

I  unbuttoned  one  very  slowly;  it  frightened  me 
that  she  should  see  my  hands  again. 

"Oh,  take  them  off!"  Then  softly,  and  with 
her  honest  eyes  looking  into  my  shamed  ones,  "  I 
am  not  afraid  of  your  hands.  I  am  very  sorry, 
but  I  am  not  afraid.  I  am  glad  that  they  are  all 
you  have  in  your  life  to  be  ashamed  of.  You  are 
too  sensitive  about  your  hands ;  you  think  too  much 
about  them." 

I  wondered  why  she  thought  that  I  had  nothing 
else  to  be  ashamed  of;  nevertheless  I  took  off  my 


48     -THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

gloves.  I  know  that  new  sight  of  my  hands  in  the 
broad  daylight  of  the  great,  old  kitchen  must  have 
come  to  her  with  something  of  a  shock,  in  spite  of 
herself,  but  she  made  no  sign  of  distress,  unless, 
perhaps,  for  a  few  minutes,  she  busied  herself  the 
harder  with  the  table  setting. 

We  made  a  merry  breakfast  of  it.  I  vowed,  and 
so,  truly,  it  seemed  to  me,  that  Nancy  fried  the 
eggs  more  beautifully  than  eggs  had  ever  been  fried 
before,  and  Nancy  said  that  never  had  French  chef 
produced  a  more  delicious  cup  of  coffee. 

Breakfast  over,  we  made  ourselves  ready  for  the 
long  walk  to  the  village.  Nancy  had  got  a  little 
old  straw  hat  from  her  trunk,  a  relic  of  her  school- 
days, that  she  had  kept  because  she  had  been  happy 
in  it,  and  in  spite  of  the  heavy  coils  of  burnished 
hair,  she  looked  simply  a  bewitching  school-girl  as 
she  pinned  it  on.  I  said  as  much. 

She  looked  up  at  me,  her  face  very  rosy.  "  A 
young  lady  must  look  her  best,"  she  laughed, 
"  when  she  takes  the  air  with  the  lord  of  the  manor, 
especially  when  he  himself  looks  so  great  and 
strong,  and  haughty." 

"  That  is  not  haughtiness,"  I  said ;  "  that  is  pride." 

"  Is  there  any  difference  ?  " 

"  All  the  difference  between  sorrow  and  great 
happiness,"  I  answered,  and  I  thought  that  some  of 
my  new-found  joy  of  life  was  reflected  in  her  eyes. 

So  we  chatted  happily  with  each  other  as  we 


ADJUSTMENT  49 

strolled  down  the  winding  sweetness  of  our  own 
long  lane.  The  day  was  a  golden  one,  a  wondrous 
jewel  in  the  crown  of  spring.  Yesterday  morn- 
ing —  yes,  only  yesterday  —  I  had  thought,  even 
in  my  weary  loneliness,  that  the  spring  was  very 
lovely.  I  had  thought  it  beautiful,  as  I  had  sat 
amid  the  cramped  burgeoning  of  Washington 
Square.  To-day  with  the  country  stretched  before 
me,  a  panorama  bounded  only  by  the  horizon  glimps- 
ing ever  and  again  through  the  tremulous  fore- 
ground of  the  trees,  it  seemed  as  if  I  saw  spring 
face  to  face  for  the  first  time.  Perhaps  one  may 
never  see  the  greatest  beauty  from  lonely  eyes,  but 
must  share  the  seeing  with  another  really  to  see 
at  all.  Perhaps  one  is  always  partly  blind,  until 
some  added  greatness,  some  unselfishness  of  passion 
draws  the  veil  from  his  eyes. 

I  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Is  it  not  wonderful  ?  " 
I  asked. 

Nancy  nodded,  her  eyes  blue  as  the  hills  that  held 
them. 

'  To  think  that  this  is  all  ours,"  she  sighed  at 
last ;  "  that  we  are  free  to  look  and  look,  and  draw 
rest  and  healing  from  it  for  as  long  as  we  like ! " 

I  blessed  her  in  my  heart  for  the  trick  she  was 
falling  into  of  saying  "  we."  If  things  could  never 
grow  from  the  level  that  they  were  taking  on  this 
our  first  day,  even  so,  I  could  be  happy,  perhaps 
content.  It  seemed  strangely  unreasonable  that  I 


50  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

should  even  dream  of  love,  when  so  great  a  boon 
as  companionship  had  been  granted  my  starvation. 
I  glanced  down  at  Nancy,  wondering  if  her  thoughts 
traveled  at  all  the  same  road  as  mine.  She  was 
very  pale,  and  her  eyes  had  lost  their  reflection  of 
the  hills. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked  in  astonishment,  for  these 
recurrent  fears  of  hers  were  beginning  to  make  me 
uneasy,  in  spite  of  myself. 

"Nothing,"  she  said;  "nothing."  But  she 
turned  her  eyes  to  mine  with  an  effort. 

I  looked  quickly  about  us,  so  nervous  was  I  grow- 
ing; but  I  saw  no  one;  we  were  absolutely  alone  in 
our  own  lane,  under  the  bright  May  sun.  Then  my 
eyes  dropped  from  their  searching  of  the  meadows, 
and,  of  a  sudden,  I  saw.  In  the  path  before  us 
a  brown  derby  hat  was  rocking  softly  in  the  dust. 

I  cursed  myself  that  I  had  forgotten  to  look  for 
it  after  my  encounter  of  the  night  before.  Now 
that  I  searched  my  memory,  I  could  see  very  clearly 
the  black  silhouette  of  my  assailant,  as  he  had  stood 
and  fired,  and  he  was  bareheaded.  No  man  would 
have  gone  roaming  hatless  about  the  country.  If 
I  had  not  been  such  a  fool,  had  not  been  so  startled 
with  the  roar  of  his  revolver,  I  should  have  thought 
of  this,  and  should  have  hidden  away  this  intrusive 
witness  of  the  night's  unpleasantness.  It  was  too 
late  now,  but  I  determined  that  Nancy  should  not 
remember  it  long. 


ADJUSTMENT  51 

"  My  friend  seems  to  have  been  in  something  of 
a  hurry,"  I  said.  But  Nancy  could  call  up  no  an- 
swering smile. 

"  You  make  too  much  of  that  little  disturbance, 
young  lady,"  I  laughed.  "  I  will  throw  the  thing 
out  of  sight,  and  then  we  will  think  of  something 
else.  Your  nerves  have  grown  too  acute;  a  few 
minutes  of  the  sunshine,  though,  will  put  everything 
right  with  you  again." 

I  picked  up  the  hat  from  where  the  little  breeze 
still  rocked  it  in  the  dust,  and  tossed  it  behind  the 
clump  of  hydrangeas  that  had  sheltered  me  the  night 
before,  and  we  went  on  again  on  our  walk  to  the 
village. 

But  the  brightness  had  gone  out  of  things,  the 
close  joyousness  of  being  together  had  passed,  for 
the  time,  beyond  recall.  I  did  my  best  to  drive 
away  the  cloud,  to  bring  the  color  back  again  to 
Nancy's  cheeks,  and  she  tried  her  best  to  help,  to 
smile  at  the  foolish  things  I  said;  but  we  could  not 
manage  it.  So,  after  I  had  tried  for  some  time,  I 
bowed  to  the  inevitable,  and  decided  that  at  least 
it  could  not  make  matters  any  worse  to  question 
Nancy  on  part  of  all  the  things  that  I  wanted  to 
know. 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,"  I  said,  "  you  had  better  tell 
me  now  why  you  married  me,  why  you  were  even 
willing  to  trust  a  stranger  to  — •" 

"  There  isn't  so  very  much  to  tell,"  Nancy  said, 


52     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

as  I  paused  uncertainly.  "  I  lived  like  any  other 
girl  until  about  five  years  ago,  when  my  father  lost 
his  mind.  My  mother  I  scarcely  remember  at  all. 
I  was  very  little  when  she  died. 

"  Until  I  was  thirteen,  my  father  and  I  lived 
alone  together,  alone  except  for  my  governess.  We 
were  very  happy,  for  we  were  devoted  to  each  other 
and  great  friends.  Indeed,  he  kept  me  so  constantly 
with  him,  and  undertook  so  much  of  my  education 
himself,  my  governess  had  very  little  to  do.  You 
see,  I  was  about  the  only  interest  he  had.  He  had 
been  a  banker  before  my  mother  died,  but  with  the 
shock  of  her  death  he  retired.  He  loved  her  so 
much  that  he  had  no  wish  to  live  himself,  and  if  he 
had  not  been  able  to  turn  that  love  to  me,  I  do  not 
think  he  really  would  have  survived  her  long.  It 
is  bad  for  a  man  to  have  nothing  to  do.  His  fortune 
was  an  old  inherited  one,  and  his  business  had  never 
been  more  than  a  half-hearted  occupation.  With 
his  sorrow  he  dropped  it  absolutely,  and  dropped 
his  friends  and  clubs  and  acquaintances.  I  see  now 
that  it  was  bad  for  him,  that  he  should  never  have 
shut  himself  away  from  the  world;  for  year  by  year 
he  became  more  of  a  recluse.  He  was  active  and 
spirited  as  a  young  man,  I  think.  The  blow  of  my 
mother's  death  crushed  all  that  out  of  him.  With 
me  he  was  never  morbid  nor  gloomy,  only  sweet 
and  mild  and  gentle,  as  if  the  mainspring  of  his 
life  had  been  snapped.  Then  when  I  was  thirteen 


ADJUSTMENT  53 

my  uncle  Ephraim,  father's  elder  brother,  came  to 
live  with  us.  And  almost  from  the  day  he  came 
things  began  to  change  in  the  house. 

"  I  don't  know  why  my  father  let  him  come,  or 
why  he  let  him  stay,  except  that  in  his  own  sorrow 
he  was  filled  with  pity  for  any  hurt  or  injured  thing. 
He  had  inherited  the  bulk  of  the  fortune,  for  my 
grandfather  had  practically  disowned  Uncle 
Ephraim  for  some  youthful  scandal  that  my  father 
would  never  tell  me  about.  He  only  said  that  we 
should  be  sorry  for  him,  and  that  his  ways  were  not 
our  ways,  and  that  he  was  quite  poor  now.  But, 
little  girl  as  I  was,  I  wondered  that  my  father,  know- 
ing what  he  did  of  my  uncle,  could  fall  so  completely 
under  his  sway." 

Nancy  threw  out  her  hands  in  a  little  gesture  of 
defense. 

"  You  see,"  she  went  on,  "  father  was  not  him- 
self. He  had  lost  interest  in  the  world,  and  his 
courage,  the  big,  fighting  courage  I  know  he  once 
had,  was  broken.  As  he  had  drawn  away  from 
the  world  and  business  he  paid  less  and  less  atten- 
tion to  his  own  affairs,  and  though  I  am  sure  he 
did  not  love  his  brother,  and  that  even  his  presence 
in  the  house  made  him  uncomfortable,  yet,  once 
having  taken  him  in  because  he  was  sorry  for  him, 
he  found  it  more  and  more  easy  to  cast  his  respon- 
sibilities on  him.  First,  they  used  to  have  long  talks 
together  of  an  evening,  talks  from  which  my  father 


54     ;THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

came  out  looking  worn  and  tired,  and  which  gradu- 
ally absorbed  the  time  we  had  been  accustomed  to 
spending  so  happily  together.  They  were  business 
talks,  he  told  me,  and  he  used  to  sigh  wearily,  and 
complain  because  the  money  which  he  no  longer 
cared  for,  so  demanded  his  attention.  At  last,  I 
know,  he  revolted,  and  gave  all  his  necessary  busi- 
ness into  Uncle  Ephraim's  charge.  It  is  queer  how 
gradually  such  things  come  about.  I  remember 
how  I  used  to  pity  my  father  for  the  work  he  had 
to  do,  until  I  almost  felt  grateful  to  Uncle  Ephraim, 
whom  I  hated,  for  relieving  him  of  it.  But  neither 
of  us  realized,  until  the  time  I  was  sent  away  to 
school,  what  a  power  he  had  become  in  the  house. 
"  It  was  the  last  great  test,  and  it  showed  how 
complete  his  influence  over  my  father  had  become. 
I  was  the  only  thing  on  earth  my  father  cared  for, 
and  my  uncle  was  able  to  make  him  part  with  me. 
He  told  him,  I  remember,  that  he  had  been  selfish, 
that  no  matter  how  well  he  was  educating  me,  he 
had  no  right  to  withdraw  me  from  the  companion- 
ship of  other  girls;  and  although  my  father  wept 
piteously  and  openly  when  he  told  me  of  it,  he  was 
too  much  under  my  uncle's  sway  to  be  unconvinced, 
and  I  was  sent  to  a  school  which  my  uncle  chose  for 
me  in  a  pretty  suburb  of  Paris.  I  had  been  at 
school  scarcely  two  months  when  I  was  recalled  by 
a  cablegram  from  my  uncle.  My  father,  he  cabled, 
had  received  some  sort  of  stroke.  I  was  hurried 


ADJUSTMENT  55 

home  by  the  first  steamer,  but  I  never  saw  my  father 
again. 

"  At  first  Uncle  Ephraim  said  that  my  father  was 
too  sick  to  see  me.  No  one  saw  him  but  his  doctor 
and  his  man  trained  nurse,  and  sometimes,  I  sup- 
pose, my  uncle.  I  lived  for  months  in  terrible 
anxiety,  to  be  told  finally  that  although  my  father 
was  growing  stronger,  his  long  fever  had  so  preyed 
upon  his  mind  as  to  leave  him  actually  unbalanced, 
and  that  the  only  hope  of  a  cure  lay  in  keeping  him 
in  the  quiet  of  absolute  seclusion.  They  all  told 
me  so,  the  doctor,  my  uncle  and  the  nurse.  I  was 
sure  it  would  have  done  him  good  to  see  me,  to 
have  had  me  to  take  care  of  him  and  to  amuse 
him,  but  they  were  all  very  certain  it  would  not, 
and  I  was  only  fifteen  and  now  had  not  even  my 
governess  to  advise  me.  So  for  five  years  my 
father  lived  in  a  closed  room." 

Nancy  paused,  her  face  turned  away  from  me.  I 
knew  that  she  was  struggling  with  her  tears. 

"  Five  years,"  she  repeated  softly,  at  last,  "  but 
now  he  is  free  again."  She  turned  wet  eyes  to  me 
and  smiled.  "  He  died  six  days  ago,"  she  said. 

I  tried,  I  suppose,  to  offer  some  poor  consolation, 
for  Nancy  interrupted  me. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  am  not  sorry  for  that ;  I  am 
glad.  It  was  not  then  he  died  for  me,  but  long 
ago.  I  am  only  glad  now,  glad  that  he  is  free,  for  he 
was  more  a  prisoner  than  I." 


56     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"Than  you?" 

"  For  all  those  years,"  Nancy  answered,  "  I  have 
been  kept  close;  I  have  never  in  all  that  time 
gone  even  for  a  little  walk  without  my  uncle  or  his 
man,  Jonas." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  I  cried,  "  that  you  your- 
self were  not  free  to  go  where  you  liked?  Why, 
the  thing  sounds  impossible !  " 

"  It  would  have  been  impossible  if  I  had  had  any 
one  in  the  world  to  turn  to;  but  you  must  remem- 
ber that  I  was  all  alone,  that  Uncle  Ephraim  really 
was  my  guardian.  I  could  not  believe  at  first  that 
he  would  dare  actually  to  make  a  prisoner  of  me. 
But  it  was  very  hard  to  be  independent  with  Uncle 
Ephraim.  He  had  a  way  of  treating  me  like  a  small 
girl;  as  if  he  could  never  bring  himself  to  realize 
that  I  had  grown  up.  He  punished  me  dreadfully 
for  what  he  called  indiscretions,  indiscretions  such 
as  speaking  to  the  woman  who  sat  next  me  in  the 
trolley,  or  stopping  to  chat  with  a  little  newsboy  in 
the  street.  He  would  lock  me  in  my  room  for  days 
for  such  offenses,  once  or  twice  he  even  made  me 
hold  out  my  hand  while  he  struck  it  with  a  ruler, 
and  once,  when  I  called  to  a  girl  of  my  own  age 
from  my  window,  after  he  had  locked  me  in 
my  room,  he  threatened  to  punish  not  only  me, 
but  my  poor  broken  father  also,  and  I  had  to  give 
up  my  room  for  one  in  the  back  of  the  house." 


ADJUSTMENT  57 

"  But,  why  did  you  stay?  "  I  asked,  as  calmly  as 
I  could;  for  I  was  trembling  all  over  in  the  sup- 
pression of  my  rage,  in  my  pity  for  the  defense- 
less horror  of  those  cruel,  lonely  years.  "  Why  did 
you  not  run  away  ?  Surely  they  would  have  helped 
you  at  your  school,  even  the  policeman  on  the  block 
could  have  done  something." 

"  I  could  not  Don't  you  see  that  I  could  not 
dare,  that  I  could  not  risk  that  possibility,  that  poor 
father  would  be  punished  in  my  stead,  and  I 
thought  Uncle  Ephraim  capable  of  anything,  things 
worse  than  punishment.  Oh,  I  could  not  go;  he 
might  even  have  killed  him." 

"  But  your  friends,"  I  protested  stupidly,  "  your 
friends  and  his  ?  " 

Nancy  smiled  bravely  up  at  me.  "  We  had 
none,"  she  replied.  "  Men,  and  even  women,  used 
to  come  from  time  to  time  at  first,  but  they  found 
father  changed,  I  suppose,  and  gradually  stopped 
coming.  It  is  dreadful  how  soon  a  man  can  be  for- 
gotten, even  a  man  of  brains  and  wealth  and  posi- 
tion. Even  before  Uncle  Ephraim  lived  with  us 
people  had  stopped  coming.  And  I  had  no  friends 
of  my  own.  The  only  ones  I  had  ever  made  were 
at  school,  and  they  were  mostly  English  and  French 
girls.  Only  one  other  girl  in  school  was  an  Amer- 
ican, and  she  stayed  there  for  a  long  time  after  I 
had  left.  She  did  come  to  see  me,  I  think.  Once, 


58  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

not  so  very  long  ago,  I  thought  I  heard  her  asking 
for  me  at  the  front  door,  but  Jonas  told  her  I  was 
not  at  home  and  shut  the  door  in  her  face." 

"  Jonas !  "  I  repeated  in  astonishment. 

"  He  has  not  been  with  us  very  long,"  said 
Nancy,  "  and  my  uncle  employed  him.  He  meant 
no  harm,  I  think,  and  was  only  acting  under  in- 
structions. I  found  none  of  our  old  servants  when 
I  came  back  from  abroad,  and  Uncle  Ephraim  kept 
for  ever  changing  the  ones  we  had.  I  asked  one  of 
the  maids,  who  seemed  to  care  for  me  a  little,  to 
mail  a  letter  for  me  to  one  of  father's  old  friends, 
but  she  only  gave  it  to  my  uncle,  and  I  was  punished 
for  it.  There  was  really  no  one  I  could  go  to." 

It  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  The  sweet  voice 
of  my  beloved  sounded  level  and  dead  in  its  mo- 
notony of  pain.  I  looked  at  her  as  she  walked  slowly 
beside  me;  her  head  was  bent  a  little  forward,  and 
her  eyes  looked  very  tired,  as  they  gazed,  unsee- 
ingly,  at  the  road  before  her. 

"He  shall  pay  for  it  all!"  I  cried  out.  "He 
shall  pay  for  it  now.  He  —  struck  —  your  hand ! 
I  will  strangle  him  with  mine !  He  shall  have  cause 
to  think  them  the  hands  of  Death! " 

Her  eyes  looked  into  mine,  wide  at  the  sudden 
terror  of  the  great  passion  that  I  could  no  longer 
hide,  then  tears  came  into  them,  and  her  hand  fell 
timidly  upon  the  tenseness  of  my  arm. 

"  I  am  very  tired,"  she  said ;  "  I  don't  think  that 


ADJUSTMENT  59 

revenge  would  make  me  happier.  I  want  to  rest. 
He  is  too  strong  for  us,  Mason.  He  has  tied  us 
very  strongly,  for  whatever  you  did  I  should  suffer 
for.  Even  if  you  could  injure  him,  he  could  injure 
us.  The  strength  of  your  hands  would  only  bring 
you  into  the  law,  and  you  are  my  husband  —  or 
perhaps  you  are  not.  Don't  you  see  that,  whatever 
our  relation  is,  he  has  tied  your  hands  for  ever  with 
my  name?  " 

I  bowed  my  head,  for  it  was  true.  Ephraim 
Bond  would  never  have  anything  to  fear  from  me ; 
even  if  our  marriage  were  illegal  I  was  the  more 
strongly  bound.  And  then  a  great  joy,  a  mighty 
wave  of  selfishness  swept  over  me.  Whether  either 
of  us  would  or  no,  Nancy  was  bound  to  me  for  all 
time.  I  had  only  meant  to  give  all  my  help  and 
all  my  love,  but  the  situation  had  moved  beyond 
my  control.  Because  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  we 
had  lived  not  quite  eighteen  hours  as  man  and  wife, 
as  man  and  wife  we  must  live  until  death  came  to 
part  us. 

But  I  bore  her  greater  love  than  that;  I  loved 
her  too  truly  to  be  selfish  very  long.  Perhaps,  even 
yet,  there  was  time  to  help  her  in  a  more  unselfish 
way,  and  to  frighten  Ephraim  Bond  into  his  senses, 
to  punish  him  in  some  measure  as  he  deserved. 

"  Nancy,"  I  said,  "  if  our  marriage  was  not  legal, 
there  is  a  way  out  for  you  yet.  Scarcely  any  one 
has  seen  us,  scarcely  any  one  knows  that  we  have 


60     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

been  here  at  all.  Suppose  that  I  go  back  to  New 
York  alone  and  look  into  this  business.  If  we 
were  not  really  married  I  will  go  to  your  uncle, 
and  tell  him  all  that  I  now  know.  The  witnesses 
of  an  illegal  marriage  would  scarcely  be  at  much 
pains  to  tell  of  what  they  saw.  You  could  be  happy, 
then,  and  free,  for  I  could  frighten  your  uncle  into 
giving  you  anything  that  you  wished." 

Nancy  said  nothing,  but  kept  walking  slowly  be- 
side me.  Far  down  the  road  I  saw  the  dust  of  a 
wagon. 

"  We  will  have  to  stop  now,  if  we  are  not  going 
to  be  seen  together.  There  is  some  one  coming  in 
sight  now,"  I  said. 

"  Are  you  unhappy  ?  "  Nancy  asked.  "  Are  you 
unhappy  with  things  as  they  are  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  I  am  not,"  I  answered.  "  I 
have  never  been  so  happy  in  my  life." 

"  Nor  have  I,"  said  Nancy,  and  her  voice  was 
very  low  but  unafraid. 

"  Nancy !  "  I  cried,  and  stopped  short  in  the  middle 
of  the  road.  The  wagon  was  coming  over  the 
ridge  of  the  next  hill. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Nancy  quietly,  but  I  thought  that 
her  voice  shook  a  little. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked.  "You  mean 
that  you  are  more  happy  than  you  have  been  in 
years ;  that  is  all  you  mean.  Isn't  it  ?  " 

"  No.     I  don't  know  why,  but  I  am  more  happy 


ADJUSTMENT  61 

than  I  have  ever  been,  more  happy  even  than  I  was 
when  my  father  was  alive  to  me." 

"  But  —  oh,  Nancy,  you  could  not  care  to  be  near 
such  a  man  as  I  am.  Happiness  in  nearness  means 
love,  and  you  could  never  love  such  a  man." 

"  Could  you  love  me  ?  "  Her  voice  was  very  low 
indeed  now. 

"  Love  you  ?  I  love  the  very  things  that  you 
have  touched.  I  have  never  done  anything  else  but 
love  you,  and  fight  against  it,  since  I  saw  you  in 
the  doorway.  Whether  you  love  or  hate  me,  I  can 
never  do  anything  else  but  love  you.  God  for- 
give me,  how  should  I  dare  to  love  you,  and  yet 
how  can  I  help  but  love  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  I  love  you,  too.  Hush,  dear,  it 
is  not  wrong  of  you  to  love  me." 

"Nancy!" 

"  Wait,  Mason ;  do  not  touch  me  yet.  I  want 
to  be  very  sure.  You  and  love  have  come  so  sud- 
denly into  my  life,  that  I  can  scarcely  believe  it 
all.  I  must  have  a  little  time,  a  very  little  time, 
Mason  dear,  but  I  do  not  think  that  we  need  be 
afraid." 

The  wagon  rattled  up,  and  was  past  in  a  cloud 
of  dust.  I  was  drunkenly  dizzy,  and  Nancy  and 
I  and  the  bright  country  around  us  seemed  hazy 
unrealities;  then,  slowly,  things  straightened  them- 
selves about  me,  and  with  a  great  effort  I  regained 
some  self-command. 


62      THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  "  you  shall  tell  me  when  you 
have  had  time  to  think,  but  do  not  forget  what  you 
are  and  what  I  am." 

"  I  have  never  forgotten  that,"  she  answered. 

"  Then  come,"  I  said ;  "  we  have  more  errands  to 
do  than  we  shall  possibly  have  time  for." 

So  we  walked  along  the  road  until  we  saw  the 
town  cradled  in  a  little  valley  at  our  feet. 

"  I  think  that  heaven  must  be  in  a  valley,"  said 
Nancy. 

I  looked  at  her,  and  smiled.  "  Heaven,"  I  said, 
"  is  not  in  any  fixed  place  at  all,  but  moves  encir- 
clingly  about  the  wandering  feet  of  Love."  And 
that  was  the  last  time  on  all  our  walk  that  love  was 
mentioned  between  us. 

We  did  a  great  many  errands,  and  it  was  very 
pleasant  to  purchase  the  little  homely  things  that  go 
to  make  up  living.  We  bargained  and  bought,  as 
if  we  had  been  buying  pans  and  vegetables  all  our 
lives,  and  we  returned  laden  with  the  lightest  and 
most  necessary  of  our  spoils. 

Once  we  were  well  home  again,  and  Nancy  was 
busy  exploring  closets,  setting  things  to  rights,  and 
planning  the  disposition  of  the  wragon  load  of  things 
that  we  expected  the  next  day  from  the  village,  I 
thought  it  a  good  opportunity  to  get  the  brown 
derby  hat  from  its  place  behind  the  bush. 

I  ran  down  the  lane,  fearful  that  she  would  miss 
me,  and  that  her  thoughts  would  be  again  directed 


ADJUSTMENT  63 

to  whatever  unpleasant  channel  they  had  turned  at 
the  hat's  discovery. 

I  reached  the  bush  almost  out  of  breath,  decid- 
ing, as  I  ran,  that  I  would  put  away  the  hat  with  the 
collar  and  necktie,  to  examine  some  day  more 
closely.  But  once  behind  the  bush,  I  stopped,  think- 
ing that  I  had  made  some  mistake. 

But  there  could  be  no  mistake  about  it.  This  was 
the  only  clump  of  hydrangeas  in  our  long  lane. 

The  hat  had  disappeared. 


VII 

CONFESSION 

SOME  two  hundred  yards  behind  the  house  was 
an  orchard  of  old  and  contorted  apple-trees, 
and  through  the  orchard  ran  a  tumbling,  gossipy, 
little  brook.  We  found  it  as  we  were  exploring 
the  place  after  breakfast,  the  next  day,  and  such  was 
Nancy's  delight  with  it,  that  she  would  go  no 
farther,  but  must  needs  sit  down  under  the  largest 
tree  by  the  water-side,  to  contemplate  at  leisure  the 
fairyland  Spring  had  left  in  passing.  There  was 
a  pleasant  and  remote  detachment  about  the  place 
which  charmed  us  both.  It  seemed  as  far  away 
from  the  clamorous  bustle  of  the  city  as  if  it  were 
on  another  planet,  and  even  the  quiet,  little  near-by 
town  was  unsuggested  and  forgotten.  The  place 
encompassed  a  life  of  its  own,  and  seemed  a  small 
and  isolated  Paradise  with  no  dependence  on  the 
outer  world.  The  stream  at  our  feet  gurgled  and 
laughed  and  ran  between  the  lush  growth  of  its 
gently  sloping  banks.  From  time  to  time  a  ghost- 
like, fleeting  minnow  would  scurry  past,  an  uncer- 
tain shadow  in  the  broken  water.  From  overhang- 
ing bush  to  overhanging  bush  an  unseen  spider  had 

64 


CONFESSION  65 

cast  a  filmy  suspension  bridge,  a  bridge  which  was 
splashed  and  jeweled  by  the  rollicking  water  be- 
neath it.  Here  and  there,  the  stream  was  tripped 
and  tangled  with  soft,  submerged  thickets  of  cress, 
which  topped  the  water  in  lovely  patches  of  dark 
emerald.  Near  us  a  luxuriant  clump  of  cowslips 
reveled  at  the  water-side,  lifting  upon  thick  stems 
wonderful,  half -opened  crowns  of  green-gold. 

Nancy  had  brought  with  her  a  diminutive  and 
dangling  bag  of  pink  flowered  silk.  Now,  as  with 
a  little  sigh  she  sat  down  under  the  apple-tree,  she 
opened  it  and  took  out  a  square  of  embroidery,  and 
deftly  threading  an  impossibly  small  needle  with  a 
length  of  coarse  silk,  set  about  the  absent  completion, 
of  some  flower  unknown  to  botany.  I  have  often 
wondered  if  fancy  work  was  not  more  adornment 
than  employment,  an  unconscious  and  decorative 
stage  property,  as  foreign  to  its  possessor  as  ear- 
rings, and  without  actual  intent,  serving  much  the 
same  purpose.  Certainly  as  she  sat  there,  slim 
fingers  busy  with  the  work,  I  thought  nothing  on 
heaven  or  earth  could  be  more  charming.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  nature  itself  held  its  breath 
watching  her,  that  all  the  tender  new-born  beauty 
about  us  was  only  frame  and  background  for  her 
loveliness.  The  apple-trees,  gnarled  with  the  whim- 
sical growth  of  years,  twisted  and  roughened  by 
sleet  and  sun  and  frost,  seemed  to  have  laid  aside 
for  her  their  sturdy  work-a-day  utility,  veiling  them- 


66  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

selves  in  blossoms,  every  triumphant  struggling  line 
of  them  softened  and  disguised  in  a  fresh,  exquisite 
pinkness  of  bloom,  as  delicately  nebulous  and  as 
dewy  sweet  as  the  cheeks  of  still-dreaming,  half- 
awakened  dawn.  The  whole  orchard  breathed  of 
them  —  a  faint,  pervading  sweet  that  stirred  the 
senses  like  a  fleeting  memory  of  lost  Eden. 

The  day  was  warm,  and  Nancy  had  welcomed  it 
with  a  dress  of  some  light,  soft  stuff  of  cloudy  tur- 
quoise blue,  to  me  a  mystery  of  marvelous  per- 
fections ;  for  it  was  cut  low  at  the  throat  and  caught 
together  there  by  a  great,  old-fashioned,  gold 
brooch,  leaving  her  neck's  soft  contour  free.  Her 
head,  bending  over  her  work,  or  raised  in  happy 
contemplation  of  the  beauty  about  her,  was  touched 
by  the  leaf-broken  sunshine,  which  danced  and 
shimmered  on  the  heavy  coils  of  hair,  reflecting 
coppery  gleams  among  the  gold,  or  making  spun 
gold  of  the  dainty  tendrils  at  her  neck's  white  nape. 
Her  eyes,  a  deeper  blue  than  the  spring  sky,  turned 
sometimes  to  the  world  about  her  and  sometimes 
happily  to  mine,  or  bending  to  some  intricacy  of  her 
work,  were  veiled  beneath  the  long  dark  lashes, 
her  delicate  dark  brows  knit  in  a  pretty  perplexity. 

As  I  looked  down  at  her  I  forgot  in  a  little  while 
my  fear  of  her  in  the  wonder  of  it  all;  that  she 
was  here  and  very  lovely,  drove  all  other  thoughts 
from  my  mind.  She  must  have  seen  something  of 
this,  as  she  glanced  up  at  me;  for  the  color  swept 


CONFESSION  67 

up  over  her  white  neck,  turning  her  cheeks  a  deeper 
pink,  and  dyeing  even  the  little  coral  ears. 

"Well,  Mason?"  she  asked. 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  I  replied,  "  that  you  are 
inexpressibly  lovely  and  that  —  well,  I  am  glad  that 
I  asked  you  yesterday,  for  I  should  never  dare  to 
do  it  now." 

"  Oh,"  said  Nancy,  very  softly,  and  bent  with 
sudden  industry  over  her  work. 

"  You  know,"  I  said  at  length,  trying  to  speak 
evenly,  "  that  you  said  you  would  tell  me  to-day." 

Nancy's  silk  got  into  an  unexpected  snarl,  and 
she  set  intently  about  righting  it.  I  was  not  sure 
that  she  had  heard  me.  A  little  breeze  whispered 
over  the  blossoms;  a  sapsucker  fluttered  from  a 
near-by  tree  to  the  one  over  our  heads,  running 
in  dizzy  spirals  about  a  big  branch,  and  stopping 
to  peer  at  us  with  his  yellow  striped  head  held 
hesitant. 

"  What  have  you  decided  ?  "  I  repeated.  "  Can 
you  find  it  in  your  heart  to  marry  me,  Nancy  ?  " 

To  my  surprise  Nancy  smiled  at  me. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  think,"  I  said,  "  that  I  want  you  more  than 
heaven,  that  I  can  give  you  such  a  love  as  only  a 
starved  man  can  give,  that  somehow,  in  some  way, 
with  God's  help,  I  can  make  you  happy.  But  I 
think  too  that  I  am  asking  too  much  of  you.  I  am 
bound  by  your  uncle's  terms,  which  it  may  or  may 


68     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

not  be  right  for  me  to  break,  to  stay  here  out  of 
the  way  of  the  world.  I  have  nothing  to  offer  you, 
nothing  at  all.  To  marry  me  would  be  perhaps  to 
bury  yourself  here  with  me,  to  lose  touch  with 
things,  to  cramp  your  life  in  many  ways,  to  exile 
yourself  from  all  the  laughter  and  little  gaieties  of 
the  world,  the  myriad  precious  trivialities  that  make 
life  for  a  woman  worth  while.  You  have  seen  so 
little  of  the  joy  of  things,  the  sweetness  of  things, 
and  the  happy,  careless  fun  of  things,  that  you  are 
too  innocent  of  life  itself  to  change  them  for  the 
nothing  I  have  to  offer.  But  oh,  Nancy,  I  can't 
help  loving  you,  loving  you  and  wanting  you." 

She  got  slowly  to  her  feet  and  stood  straightly 
proud  before  me. 

"Is  that  all?"  she  asked. 

"  All  ?  "  I  repeated  vaguely. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nancy,  "  because,  if  it  is,  I  want 
you  to  listen.  You  do  not  know  very  much  about 
women,  Mason;  nothing  at  all  about  me.  Bury 
me  here,  you  say?  Take  me  away  from  the  light 
and  joyous  and  pretty  things  that  women  love? 
Offer  me  nothing  in  return?  Do  you  think,  can 
you  truly  think,  that  to  be  here  with  you  would 
be  that?  Oh,  I  know  what  I  have  missed  in  life, 
little  kindnesses,  little  friendships,  little  loves;  but 
take  them  all  together  and  what  are  they  worth? 
These  things  do  not  spell  life  to  a  woman,  Mason. 
It  is  the  great  friend  and  the  great  love  that  she 


CONFESSION  69 

wants.  Home  and  a  man,  whose  world  she  is,  love 
and  understanding,  the  laughter  and  tears  of  real 
every-day  life,  with  the  great  life  of  every  day,  the 
secure  tranquillity  of  night  time,  a  hand  to  touch 
in  the  dark  and  true  eyes  to  look  into  in  the  light, 
these  are  the  things  that  make  her  horizon.  Noth- 
ing to  offer,  Mason?  No  man  can  give  a  woman 
any  more." 

She  threw  out  her  hands  with  a  little  gesture  as 
she  finished  and  I  caught  them  in  both  my  own, 
till  she  swayed  to  me,  hiding  her  misty  eyes  against 
my  breast. 

"  Nancy,"  I  whispered,  and  again  breathlessly, 
"  Nancy,"  and  stooping,  I  gathered  her  up  in  my 
arms.  All  unafraid  her  lips  met  mine  at  last. 

When  we  had  been  sitting  for  a  long  time  under 
the  tree  together,  and  when  we  had  planned  our 
lives  to  very  eternity  itself,  and  I  had  been  scolded 
and  berated  and  forgiven  for  my  blindness  and 
stupidity,  and  the  bird  had  flown  away  and  come 
back  to  us  again,  a  sudden  and  practical  question 
occurred  to  me. 

"  What?  "  said  Nancy,  taking  her  hand  abruptly 
from  my  shoulder  and  pushing  herself  off  at  arm's 
length. 

But  I  was  not  to  be  twice  chided  with  cowardice. 
"  I  can't  see  any  gain,"  I  said,  "  in  waiting.  If  you 
are  to  marry  me  at  all,  why  shouldn't  you  marry  me 
right  away  ?  " 


70  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"Well!"  said  Nancy,  "well!" 

"  Well  what  ?  "  I  asked.  "  If  you  have  any  good 
reason,  you'd  better  tell  me." 

A  little  smile  stirred  at  the  corners  of  Nancy's 
mouth. 

"  No  girl  living,"  she  said,  "  would  consent  to 
being  married  out  of  hand  like  that.  If  you  want 
to  marry  me,  Mason,  you  must  wait  for  me." 

"  Wait  ?  "  I  repeated  blankly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nancy,  "  until  to-morrow,"  and 
settled  back  again  into  the  place  she  had  left. 


VIII 

GONE 

I  MUST  go,  I  felt,  that  very  afternoon  for  our 
marriage  license.  Now  that  Nancy  had 
promised  to  marry  me  on  the  morrow,  she  was  as 
anxious  about  it  as  I  was.  At  first  we  had  planned 
to  drive  in  in  the  morning  and  get  the  license 
together,  and  then  go  quietly  to  the  nearest 
minister,  but  I  was  ignorant  of  such  matters  and 
afraid  that  it  might  be  refused  with  the  ink 
scarce  dry  upon  it.  It  would  be  much  safer, 
I  thought,  to  leave  a  little  margin,  and  when 
I  got  my  license,  find  out  beforehand  what  would 
be  required  of  us. 

I  was  reluctant,  however,  to  leave  Nancy  alone, 
feeling  all  of  a  city  man's  doubt  of  the  safety  of 
the  country,  and  disturbed  by  the  thought  of  that 
night  prowler,  whose  hat  had  but  yesterday  disap- 
peared from  our  road. 

I  told  Nancy  something  of  my  fears  and  to  my 
surprise  she  took  them  quite  seriously. 

"  I  can  go  with  you,"  she  suggested. 

"  A  pretty  long  walk,  I'm  afraid,"  I  said,  "  and 
you  know  you  are  still  a  little  tired  from  the  walk 

71 


72     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

we  took  yesterday.  Perhaps  though  we  could  drive 
in." 

"  Go  and  try  the  neighbors,"  said  Nancy,  "  and 
if  you  can't  get  a  conveyance,  perhaps  you  can  get 
some  one  to  come  in  and  stay  with  me.  There  is 
really  a  lot  of  work  to  be  done  about  the  house, 
and  I  have  no  right  at  all  to  be  taking  excursions 
around  the  country.  I'll  go  if  you  can  get  some- 
thing to  drive  in,  in  spite  of  my  conscience;  but 
if  you  can't,  I  shall  be  perfectly  happy,  if  only  you 
can  persuade  some  woman  to  come  in  and  work  with 
me  for  the  rest  of  the  day." 

I  made  the  rounds  of  my  neighbors  without  very 
much  success.  The  horses  were  lame,  the  horses 
were  busy,  there  was  plowing  to  do,  and  I  think 
their  owners  looked  with  some  suspicion  on  my  city 
clothes.  There  was  no  telling  how  such  a  man  as 
I  would  treat  horse-flesh.  They  were  all  perfectly 
willing,  however,  to  risk  their  women  folk,  and 
softened  the  refusal  (5f  their  horses  by  offers  of 
their  wives.  Finally  I  had  to  content  myself  with 
one  of  the  latter.  She  was  a  large,  pleasant-faced 
woman  of  middle  age,  sensible  and  assertive,  who 
would  inspire  terror,  I  thought,  in  the  heart  of  the 
hungriest  tramp.  She  came  with  me  with  a  readi- 
ness which,  I  am  sure,  was  largely  inspired  by 
curiosity,  a  praiseworthy  enough  desire  to  know 
what  her  new  neighbors  were  like.  Nancy  was 
charmed  with  her,  and  with  a  good  heart  I  left 


GONE  73 

them  together,  already  engrossed  in  our  new  pails 
and  brushes. 

Doylestown,  I  found,  was  a  little  over  five  miles 
away.  But  what  were  five  miles  to  a  man  on  such 
an  errand  as  mine?  It  was  unbelievably  wonderful 
that  I,  Mason  Ellsworth,  should  ever  be  going  on 
such  an  errand  at  all.  And  for  a  mile  or  so  I  went 
lightly,  as  one  going  in  a  dream  and  desperately 
afraid  that  he  may  awake  to  the  cruel  realities  of 
every  day.  But  overhead  the  sun  was  warm,  lush 
field  and  meadow,  sodden  with  the  overnight  rain, 
smoked  with  an  earthy  smell  that  brought  to  my 
city  senses  primal  stirrings  that  thrilled  through  me 
like  wine;  birds  were  stirring  cheerfully  in  the 
hedgerows  and  thickets,  and  from  time  to  time,  I 
would  come  upon  a  brown  rabbit  sentinel,  ears 
slanted  forward  at  attention,  as  if  he  said  "  Pass, 
friend,"  and  then  scurried  off  to  herald  the  news 
along  the  road.  After  all,  it  was  reality,  solid,  com- 
fortable, healthy  reality,  and  before  I  had  gone  half 
way  I  was  striding  the  road  like  any  soldier;  love 
and  the  world  lay  before  me,  and  come  what  might 
I  felt  strongly  ready. 

Although  Doylestown  was  a  little  county  seat, 
I  had  to  inquire  my  way  to  the  county  clerk's  office, 
and  I  thought  as  I  did  so  that  my  informant  looked 
at  me  doubtfully,  as  if  he  wondered  who  I  was 
and  what  my  errand.  And  the  clerk  himself,  when 
I  had  given  our  pedigrees,  as  best  I  could  and  he  had 


74     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

made  me  out  our  license,  leaned  toward  me  as  one 
having  gossip  to  impart  and  wishing  more. 

"Mr.  Ellsworth,"  he  said,  "a  friend  of  yours 
was  asking  for  you  here  only  yesterday." 

"  Of  mine,"  I  repeated  wonderingly. 

The  clerk  looked  at  me  sharply.  "  I  suppose  he 
was,"  he  said.  "  Unless  you  owe  some  one  money," 
and  he  chuckled  as  if  the  observation  had  been  the 
quintessence  of  sly  humor. 

"  What  did  he  look  like?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  as  you'd  say  he  looked  like 
anything  particular.  He  was  just  a  tall  man,  with 
good  clothes,  and  a  nose  perhaps  a  little  longer 
than  the  law  allows.  The  only  thing  I  really  did 
notice  about  him  was  his  cap.  I  did  like  his  cap. 
It  was  just  like  one  I  have  had  my  eye  on  for  the 
last  two  weeks.  I  am  going  to  step  around  and 
get  it  this  afternoon." 

The  taste  of  the  Bucks  County  clerk  in  caps 
did  not  seem  to  me  a  very  enthralling  subject. 
"  Oh,  you  must  have  been  mistaken,"  I  said ;  "  there 
is  nobody  about  here  that  I  know.  It  must  have 
been  some  other  Ellsworth  that  he  was  looking  for." 

"Well,"  drawled  the  clerk,  "he  asked  for 
Mason  Ellsworth  as  plain  as  paint.  Wanted  to 
know  if  I  had  heard  either  of  you  or  of  a  young 
lady  named  Nancy  Bond.  Said  he  was  the  agent 
for  some  phonograph  or  other,  and  his  firm  had 
asked  him  to  look  you  up."  He  eyed  me  for  a 


GONE  75 

moment  shrewdly.  "  I  did  not  take  much  stock  in 
that  agent  business,  though,"  he  said ;  "  somehow 
you  can  tell  an  agent  when  you  see  one." 

"  Mason  Ellsworth,  Nancy  Bond  ? "  Who  in 
the  world  could  be  looking  for  us?  Who  in  the 
world  in  this  out-of-the-way  place?  No  one  but 
Nancy's  uncle  could,  it  seemed  to  me,  know  where 
we  were;  and  yet  this  was  evidently  not  Ephraim 
Bond.  I  had  come  very  bravely  upon  my  errand, 
but  now  I  felt  vaguely  afraid,  and  my  fear  was 
the  greater  simply  because  it  was  vague.  Of  a 
sudden,  I  remembered  the  man  in  the  brown  derby 
hat,  and  felt  that  I  was  five  long  miles  and  over 
away  from  Nancy.  "  Thank  you,"  I  said  to  the 
clerk  and  walked  out  of  the  office  as  quietly  as  I 
could.  It  was  agony  to  keep  my  measured  step 
through  the  almost  empty  streets  of  the  quiet,  in- 
quisitive little  town.  Once  out  of  it,  I  started  run- 
ning and  ran  until  I  could  run  no  more.  So  I 
went  along  those  five  miles  that  had  seemed  so 
short,  running  when  I  could,  walking  when  I 
could  run  no  more;  fear  growing  in  my  heart  with 
every  tortured,  panting  stride.  No  vehicle  of  any 
kind  passed  me,  and  I  hated  the  physical  disability 
and  lack  of  training  that  kept  me  from  running 
every  step  of  the  way.  But  at  last  I  came  in  sight 
of  home. 

There  it  lay  across  the  rolling  fields,  peaceful 
and  secure.  Smoke  was  curling  lazily  from  the 


76 

great  central  chimney  and  the  gray  expanse  of 
shingled  roof  was  blotched  irregularly  with  color, 
where  pigeons  sunned  themselves  in  the  glow  of 
the  late  afternoon.  How  foolish  I  had  been! 
Here,  if  anywhere  in  the  world,  was  security  itself. 
I  had  tasted  of  melodrama,  to  be  sure,  but,  thank 
God,  I  had  left  it  behind  me  in  the  city  where  any- 
thing may  happen;  here  was  only  peace  and  quiet 
and  the  poignant  happiness  of  ultimate  tranquillity. 
I  laughed  at  the  thoughts  that  had  stirred  me 
and  made  up  my  mind  that  they  should  not  trouble 
Nancy  too.  I  was  hot  and  tired  and  dusty,  and 
I  stopped  in  the  road  to  make  some  disguising  re- 
pairs to  my  dishevelment.  I  was  dusting  my  shoes 
with  my  handkerchief,  when  there  came  a  rattle 
of  wheels  and  a  shout,  and  I  had  only  time  to  leap 
to  the  roadside,  when  a  horse  and  buggy  rounded 
the  abrupt  turn  of  the  road  and  dashed  past  me 
at  a  runaway  gallop  in  the  direction  I  had  just 
come.  I  turned  to  look  after  it;  the  buggy  top 
was  up  and  lurching  drunkenly  to  the  mad  galloping 
of  the  horse.  If  I  had  not  heard  the  shout  I  should 
have  thought  the  runaway  was  driverless,  and  then 
to  my  amazement  I  could  see  far  off  the  thin 
flicker  of  a  lashing  whip,  as  the  buggy  disappeared 
in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

After  all,  I  was  tired  and  nervous ;  even  this  sud- 
den chance  awoke  my  fears  again.     I  vaulted  the 


GONE  77 

whitewashed  rail  fence  and  started  running  across 
the  fields,  blundering  through  bits  of  bog,  tearing 
impatiently  through  briers,  and  once  or  twice  al- 
most falling  on  the  deceptive,  uneven  ground. 

I  made  the  veranda  steps  in  a  rush;  the  front 
door  was  open  and  I  paused  a  second,  gasping 
in  the  hall.  "Nancy!"  I  called,  "Nancy!"  and 
stood  sickly  afraid.  Though  my  voice  echoed  hol- 
lowly through  the  house  and  I  knew,  even  as  I 
called,  that  I  was  all  alone  there,  that  Nancy  was 
gone,  nevertheless,  I  ran  up  to  her  room,  only  to 
find  it  empty,  and  then  started  searching  the  rest 
of  the  house  with  an  abandonment  of  terror  which 
has  since  made  me  heartily  ashamed.  Empty  room 
after  empty  room  mocked  and  menaced  me.  A  bit 
of  embroidery  lay  on  the  dining-room  table,  and  I 
snatched  it  up,  as  if,  somehow,  it  might  help  me 
find  her.  I  threw  open  the  back  door  and  called,, 
and  ran  out  of  the  house  and  through  the  orchard, 
calling,  "  Nancy,  Nancy,"  to  the  empty  world. 
Then,  as  when  once  or  twice  in  my  life  I  have 
had  to  fight,  I  grew  of  a  sudden  quiet,  collected 
and  cold,  and  went  back  to  make  a  more  methodical 
search  of  the  house.  It  was  barely  possible,  I  re- 
flected, that  she  had  made  an  excursion  to  one  of 
the  neighbor's  places,  taking  her  helper  with  her  as 
a  guide.  Then,  before  making  the  rounds  of  the 
neighborhood,  I  determined  to  look  our  own  house 


78  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

over  thoroughly;  for,  unless  indeed  she  had  gone 
somewhere  with  Nancy,  I  could  not  account  for  the 
disappearance  of  the  woman  I  had  employed. 

I  was  not  to  seek  her  long,  however,  for  as  I 
reentered  the  kitchen,  I  heard  a  sound  which  I 
must  have  heard  before,  save  for  the  extremity 
of  my  panic,  the  drumming  of  fists  on  the  inside 
of  a  closet  door.  The  door  had  been  locked  and 
bolted  from  the  outside,  and  my  heart  sank  within 
me  as  I  undid  the  lock,  for  I  knew  now  that  Nancy 
was  surely  gone.  The  woman,  whom  I  had  thought 
so  secure  a  guardian,  burst  out  upon  me  wrath  fully. 

"  .What  did  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  she  asked,  her 
voice  rising  almost  to  a  shriek.  "  Is  that  the  way 
to  treat  any  one?  If  it's  a  joke,  it's  a  very  poor 
one." 

"  Exactly  what  happened  ?  "  I  asked  her,  when 
I  had  calmed  her  indignation  somewhat 

"  I  don't  know  now  what  did  happen,"  she 
said.  "  I  thought  it  was  you.  Your  young  lady 
had  gone  up-stairs  for  some  time,  and  left  me  to 
put  paper  on  the  closet  shelves.  While  I  was  work- 
ing in  there,  some  one  slammed  the  door  behind 
me  and  locked  it.  It  frightened  me  nearly  out  of 
my  senses,  and  then  I  thought  as  perhaps  you  were 
one  of  those  young  cut-ups,  and  had  done  it  for  a 
joke." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  noise  in  the  house  ?  "  I  asked 
her. 


GONE  79 

"  No,  I  heard  nothing  at  all,"  she  replied  dryly. 
"  I've  been  making  all  the  noise  myself  I  could  hear 
at  one  time.  Why  ?  "  she  added.  "  Has  anything 
happened  ?  " 

I  saw  she  had  no  information  for  me  and  de- 
cided against  letting  her  know  of  Nancy's  disap- 
pearance. 

"  No,"  I  stammered,  "  nothing  has  happened. 
I  really  must  apologize,"  I  blundered  on,  feeling  that 
I  was  lying  clumsily,  "  but  I  am  afraid  that  I  really 
did  shut  that  door.  You  see,  I'm  very  absent- 
minded.  I  don't  remember  doing  it,  but  I  suppose 
I  must  have.  We  had  a  closet  at  home  very  much 
like  this,  and  we  had  to  keep  continually  locking 
it  to  keep  the  cat  out.  I  must  have  just  shut 
the  door  and  turned  the  key  from  force  of  habit, 
when  I  went  through  the  kitchen;  but  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honor,  Mrs.  Blake,  that  I  didn't  see 
you." 

Clumsy  as  the  falsehood  was,  it  struck  a  fortunate 
chord. 

"  That's  just  like  my  father  used  to  be,"  she  said, 
"  long  about  when  he  was  ninety.  He  was  so  ab- 
sent-minded, he'd  go  up-stairs  to  change  his  shoes 
and  go  to  bed  right  in  the  middle  of  the  day."  She 
launched  into  a  long  series  of  her  father's  peculiar 
and  absent-minded  doings,  which  in  my  agony  I  had 
to  strive  to  listen  to  quietly ;  for  I  was  very  anxious 
to  get  her  out  of  the  house,  suspecting  nothing, 


8o     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

a  feat  which  I  finally  accomplished  by  saying  that 
Nancy  was  tired  out  and  resting  and  that  she 
wanted  Mrs.  Blake  to  be  home  in  time  to  cook 
her  own  supper.  Then  I  mounted  the  stairs  again 
to  Nancy's  room.  The  late  sun  came  levelly 
through  the  windows,  lighting  its  farthest  corner. 
One  chair  lay  on  its  side,  lace  window  curtains 
were  disarranged,  and  a  curtain  cord  had  been 
ripped  away  with  a  force  that  had  broken  its  old- 
fashioned  hook.  That  was  all.  But  that  all  was 
enough.  Nancy  had  not  gone  of  her  own  free 
will,  and  with  murder  in  my  heart  I  laughed  aloud 
in  the  silent  room. 

This,  then,  was  the  errand  of  the  midnight 
prowler,  this  the  accomplished  aim  of  the  man, 
for  he  must  have  been  the  same,  who  had  inquired 
for  us  at  the  county  clerk's  office.  Who  he  was, 
whether  an  agent  of  Ephraim  Bond's  or  not, 
whether  or  not  this  was  all  part  of  the  original 
plan,  I  could  not  know,  and  for  the  instant  did  not 
care.  It  was  enough  for  me  that  Nancy  was  gone 
and  that  she  had  been  taken  roughly.  I  knew  that 
I  should  find  her  again,  if  I  had  to  kill  some  one 
to  do  it;  find  her  and  bring  her  home.  The  next 
time  this  man  came  under  my  hands  he  should  not 
escape  so  easily. 

But  on  Nancy's  bureau  lay  something  white,  a 
mocking  sheet  of  paper  that  looked  up  at  me.  I 
read: 


GONE  81 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind,  luckily  in  time  for  us 
both.  You  must  forgive  me,  but  I  find  that  I  am 
unable  to  overcome  an  innate  repugnance  of  physi- 
cal disfigurement.  I  did  not  wish  the  pain  of  seeing 
you  again,  which,  I  am  sure,  you  will  see  would 
have  been  a  pain  for  us  both,  and  so  I  am  taking 
the  afternoon  train  for  Philadelphia.  There  I  shall 
spend  the  night  with  friends,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing take  up  the  rest  of  the  journey  home.  Forgive 
me  and  believe  me,  I  am  sorry.  You  are  not  to  try 
to  follow.  That  is  absolutely  final. 

"  NANCY  BOND." 

Even  as  I  read  it,  I  knew  the  thing  was  a  lie. 
I  had  never  seen  her  writing;  but  whether  this 
letter  was  forged  or  whether  she  had  written  it 
herself,  under  the  necessity  of  some  compulsion, 
I  could  not  decide;  already,  I  was  too  sure  of  her 
to  believe  it.  Whatever  she  might  do,  or  had 
done,  she  would  certainly  never  have  made  my 
hands  the  excuse  for  running  away,  nor  indeed 
would  she  have  run  away  at  all. 

The  thing  was  outside  the  possibility  of  her 
moral  courage.  If,  in  my  absence,  she  had  de- 
cided for  any  reason  that  our  proposed  marriage 
was  wrong,  I  was  sure  she  would  have  waited  for 
me,  and  told  me  that  reason  with  gentle  bravery. 

I  folded  the  note  and  put  it  in  my  pocket,  then, 
with  a  sudden  tardy  thought,  cursed  myself  furi- 
ously and  aloud,  for  I  remembered  the  galloping 
horse  that  had  so  nearly  run  me  down,  the  swaying 


buggy,  the  lashing,  cruel  whip;  Nancy  must  have 
passed  me  almost  at  our  very  gates,  and  I  had  stood 
gaping  in  the  road  and  wonderingly  watched  her 
out  of  sight.  What  a  hopeless  fool  I  had  been, 
and  even  now  the  minutes  were  flying.  Again  I 
found  myself  out  upon  the  open  road,  running  this 
time  tirelessly  and  with  a  new-found  strength. 
Evening  had  fallen,  and  here  and  there  I  passed 
toilers  returning  home.  One  or  two  called  after 
me,  but  I  kept  steadfastly  on  my  way  until  the 
town  lights  began  to  twinkle  before  me.  Then, 
here  and  there,  I  stopped  to  make  inquiries,  fearing 
now  at  many  turnings  to  lose  the  trail  of  him  whom 
I  pursued. 

A  lathered,  foundered  horse  attracts  attention 
anywhere,  and  I  easily  traced  it  to  the  heart  of 
the  town  itself.  My  last  informant  vaguely  thought 
it  had  gone  through,  but  after  that  I  absolutely  lost 
track.  It  might  have  been  abandoned  in  some  field 
or  lane,  it  might  have  gone  on  to  any  one  of  two 
or  three  towns ;  the  fact  remained  that  it  was  gone. 
It  was  agony  not  to  go  ahead,  but  folly  to  go 
ahead  blindly.  In  the  end  I  had  myself  driven 
home,  to  work  out  there  a  plausible  scheme  of 
pursuit.  In  the  country  the  night  comes  with  final- 
ity, the  world  is  asleep,  and  he  who  travels  must 
travel  alone  and  uninformed. 


IX 

PURSUIT 

FIRST  of  all,  I  ate  something;  for,  now  that  I 
understood  the  blow,  now  that  panic  had 
crystallized  into  determination,  I  recognized  that, 
the  more  serious  the  situation,  the  more  need  there 
was  that  I  should  be  at  my  top  level  of  efficiency. 
Then  seriously  I  sat  down  to  consider  the  matter. 

After  all,  I  was  certain  of  only  one  thing,  that 
Nancy  had  not  left  me  of  her  own  free  will,  and 
even  here  my  certainty  was  a  moral  one.  With 
morning  I  must  be  ready  to  find  her,  to  go  straight 
to  her  if  I  could;  or,  at  any  rate,  I  must  have 
some  definitely  determined  plan  of  action;  nothing 
much  is  ever  gained  by  a  vague  casting  about  for 
a  trail.  And,  as  at  first  I  thought  things  over,  it 
all  seemed  for  the  moment  blind  and  hopeless. 
Then  methodically  I  went  back  to  the  very  be- 
ginning of  things.  Of  a  sudden  I  remembered  the 
curtains  that  had  stirred  in  Ephraim  Bond's  house, 
that  unknown  eavesdropper  at  our  first  meeting, 
whose  arm  I  had  grasped  through  the  curtain  folds 
and  found  unexpectedly  strong.  I  remembered,  too, 
Nancy's  nervousness  at  the  ferry,  and  the  man 

83 


84 

in  the  brown  derby  hat,  who  had  driven  up  just 
too  late  to  catch  our  boat.  How  stupid  and  un- 
noticing  a  man  in  love  may  be ;  now  was  the  first 
time  that  I  connected  this  impatient  man  at  the 
ferry  gates  with  the  skulking  intruder  of  the  night 
of  our  arrival,  whose  lost  hat,  rocking  in  the  empty 
road,  had  alone  been  enough  to  cloud  the  happiness 
of  the  day  for  Nancy.  Surely,  I  thought,  here  was 
the  man. 

Here  was  the  man;  but  how  was  I  further  ad- 
vanced ?    To  be  sure,  I  had  seen  him  at  the  ferry. 
and  had  struggled  with  him  amid  the   glimpsing 
moonlight  of  the  lawn ;  but  on  neither  occasion  had 
I  clearly  seen  his  face,  nor  could  I  call  to  mind 
any  memory  of  it.     Yet,  in  all  probability,  it  was 
he  who  had  inquired  about  us  at  the  county  seat. 
Here  was  a  man  remarkable  for  nothing  save  a 
long  nose.     The  fact  that  the  clerk  was  very  sure 
that  then  he  wore  a  cloth  cap,  strengthened  rather 
than  weakened  the  probability.     If  the  man  I  had 
struggled  with,  and  who  had  lost  that  brown  derby 
as  he  broke  away  from  me,  were  the  same,   he 
would  not  have  gone  about  the  country  bareheaded, 
but  would  have  stepped  in  to  a  local  haberdasher's 
to  make  some  shift  at  replacing  his  loss.     That  he 
returned  for  the  derby  showed  more  a  commendable 
caution   than  anything   else;  he   must   have   been 
pretty  certain  that  I  had  Nancy  in  my  care,  and, 
as  he  was  definitely  planning  to  take  her  away  from 


PURSUIT  85 

me,  risked  a  daylight  search  of  the  roadside  rather 
than  leave  such  a  workable  clue  in  my  hands.  And 
with  the  thought  I  got  to  my  feet.  After  all, 
something  was  left;  I  need  not  start  absolutely 
in  the  dark ;  for  up-stairs  in  my  bureau  lay  the  torn 
collar  and  tie,  tangible  witnesses  of  our  midnight 
encounter.  I  took  the  lamp  from  the  table  and 
climbed  the  stairs  in  search  of  them. 

The  door  of  Nancy's  room  was  still  open.  How 
empty  the  house  seemed!  I  closed  my  own  door 
behind  me  to  shut  out  the  new  and  poignant  loneli- 
ness, and  to  lock  myself  in  to  that  familiar  solitude 
to  which  I  had  grown  perforce  accustomed. 

The  collar  itself  was  torn  and  rumpled,  but  evi- 
dently, as  I  had  noticed  before,  of  good  make.  I 
smoothed  it  out  on  the  bureau  before  me,  going 
over  it  minutely,  as  I  imagined  a  Central  Office 
man  would  do,  and,  to  make  things  more  clear, 
jotted  down  in  my  note-book  what  meager  observa- 
tions and  deductions  I  could  make.  The  size  was 
sixteen;  evidently  my  man  was  either  stout  or 
strong;  for  a  matter  of  fact  I  already  knew  him 
to  be  the  latter.  It  was  marked  in  indelible  ink, 
M.  48,  after  the  custom  of  steam  laundries,  and 
there  followed  after  this  five  upright  marks  in  vary- 
ing degrees  of  freshness,  four  of  them  grouped 
together  by  a  cutting  diagonal.  These  marks  I 
took  it  were  his  own ;  I  had  known  one  or  two  men 
before  with  this  same  economical  inquisitiveness, 


86 

•whose  strange  pleasure  it  was  so  to  reckon  the  life 
of  a  collar.  These  marks  simply  meant  that  this 
particular  collar  had  been  laundered  six  times  since 
its  purchase,  in  all  probability  by  the  same  concern. 
And  as  there  were  no  other  laundry  marks  than 
the  M.  48  I  had  noted,  this  it  seemed  to  me  must 
mean  two  things;  first,  that  my  man  had  in  all 
probability  lived  in  one  place  for  at  least  six  weeks, 
and  second,  that  in  this  case,  he  must  have  be- 
come a  known  and  listed  patron  of  some  laundry. 

The  tie  was  plain  enough,  but  bore  the  name 
of  a  fashionable  New  York  maker,  which  I  hoped 
meant  that  my  man  lived  in  New  York,  and  that 
perhaps  he  might  be  known  to   the  firm  whose 
name  the  tie  bore.     I  knew,  at  least,  that  fortunately 
they  prided  themselves  upon  the  exclusiveness  of 
their  designs,  that,  even  in  their  own  shop,  they 
sold  but  two  or  three  of  the  same  pattern,  and  I 
hoped  that  there  I  might  chance  upon  a  salesman 
intelligent   enough,   and   with   that   uncanny   trick 
of  remembering  a  customer's   face  that  salesmen 
sometimes  acquire,  to  give  me  some  information 
as  to  whom  this  tie  actually  belonged.     Perhaps, 
even,  it  bore  some  distinguishing  mark,   indistin- 
guishable to  my  untrained  eyes.     I  rolled  the  two 
together  very  carefully,  and  stowed  them  away  in 
my  coat  pocket. 

Outside  it  was  bright  moonlight  again;   and   I 
stood  by  the  window  for  a  moment,  following  with 


PURSUIT  87 

my  eyes  our  winding  road,  and  unconsciously 
searching  the  crisp  black  shadows  for  the  intruder 
of  two  nights  ago.  Once  it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  almost  saw  him;  then  I  recognized  the  absurdity 
of  the  thought  and  what  a  jangle  my  nerves  must 
be  in.  But,  nevertheless,  although  I  smiled  at  my 
own  foolishness,  I  took  the  collar  and  tie  from  my 
coat  pocket,  and  tucked  them  under  my  pillow. 
After  all,  they  were  about  my  only  clues,  and  I 
should  keep  them  as  safe  as  a  traveler  in  foreign 
lands  guards  his  money-belt.  Then  through  sheer 
fatigue  I  fell  asleep. 

I  suppose  I  slept  soundly  for  an  hour  or  two, 
until  the  first  numbing  edge  of  my  weariness  had 
passed;  then  through  utter  unconsciousness  crept 
the  vague  and  poignant  stirrings  of  my  anxiety. 
Nancy's  face,  white  and  terrified,  came  before  me 
in  changing  dream  and  dream.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  she  tried  to  call  but  could  not,  that  she  was 
in  some  dim  place  where  she  believed  my  eyes  could 
•not  find  her,  and  that,  finally,  in  her  desperation 
unable  to  speak  and  struggling  frantically  in  silence 
for  my  attention,  she  overthrew  at  last  some  un- 
known object  with  a  crash.  With  a  cry  I  awoke 
and  sprang  from  the  bed. 

The  first  gray  of  morning  was  coming  in  the 
window,  and  birds  were  twittering  and  astir.  The 
dim  country  lay  in  wholesome  peace  before  me, 
and  yet  my  mind  surged  with  a  living  horror  of  the 


88  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

dream.  Dully  I  looked  about  my  room ;  the  chair 
upon  which  I  had  put  my  clothes  was  overturned, 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  piled  one  upon  an- 
other, were  stacked  my  ransacked  bureau-drawers. 
Yet  there  was  not  a  sound  in  the  house. 

As  softly  as  I  could  I  searched  room  after  room; 
the  house  was  empty  from  garret  to  cellar.  My 
visitor,  whoever  he  was,  and  there  could  be  but 
little  doubt  of  his  probable  identity,  had  made  a 
safe  escape. 

I  was  angry  that  sleep  had  held  me  so  soundly, 
and  chagrined   to  think  that  this   man,   whom   I 
would  have  given  my  life  to  lay  my  hands  upon, 
had  stood  watching  me  as  I  slept,  and  had  coolly 
searched  my  room  for  what  he  wished  to  find;  but 
this  chagrin  was  tempered  somewhat  by  the  reflec- 
tion that  his  search  had  been  in  vain ;  for  he  could 
have  come  back  for  nothing  save  the  collar  and 
tie,  which  he  left  in  my  hands,  and  which  I  found 
still  safe  beneath  my  pillow.     The  very  fact  that 
he  had  come  back  for  them  gave  them  added  im- 
portance in  my  eyes,  for  certainly  their  importance 
to  me  must  have  occurred  to  him,  and  must  have 
strongly   disturbed   him,   to   have  made   him   risk 
another  return. 

Then,  too,  he  must  have  come  alone ;  which  meant 
that  he  had  left  Nancy  in  some  other  care;  what 
care  I  could  not  guess,  but  was  thankful  for  the 
necessity  all  the  same. 


PURSUIT  89 

It  seemed  to  me  that  my  best  course  of  action, 
at  least  the  only  one  that  presented  itself  to  me 
at  the  moment,  was  to  go  back  again  to  the  county 
seat,  and,  with  that  as  a  center,  to  start  my  search 
from  there.  I  went  about  the  house  closing  and 
locking  the  windows  against  my  indefinite  return. 
I  had  lived  in  it  but  two  days,  and  yet  the  place 
was  somehow  home;  and,  as  I  made  it  secure,  this 
very  home  atmosphere  heartened  me  unbeliev- 
ably. The  place  was  undoubtedly  meant  for  us; 
and  I  could  not  but  believe  that,  sooner  or  later, 
my  search  would  be  successful,  and  Nancy  and  I 
would  some  day  take  up  the  quiet  life  there  that 
both  of  us  so  sorely  needed,  and  that  both  of  us 
would  find  so  sweet.  As  I  locked  the  front  door 
I  hesitated  about  the  disposal  of  the  key.  It  was 
barely  possible  that  Nancy  herself  might  return  in 
my  absence,  that,  by  some  ingenuity  of  her  own, 
she  might  be  able  to  escape  from  whatever  situa- 
tion now  held  or  coerced  her.  It  would  be  bad 
enough  for  her  to  find  me  gone,  at  least  she  should 
not  find  the  house  locked  against  her.  I  smiled  as 
I  lifted  the  front  door  mat  and  dropped  the  key 
under  it;  any  woman  would  look  there  for  a  key, 
either  there  or  over  the  lintel  of  the  door.  Men, 
having  pockets,  do  not  expect  to  find  the  key  of 
a  locked  house  in  any  other  place. 

I  turned  at  the  gate  to  look  back  at  the  house. 
How  still  and  quiet  and  waiting  it  looked!  I  felt 


90     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

as  Adam  must  have  at  the  Garden  gate;  the 
world's  strife  before  me  and  paradise  behind. 
But  after  all  an  empty  paradise  is  not  paradise  at 
all,  and  I  turned  my  back  resolutely  upon  it,  and 
set  forth  upon  my  indefinite  journey.  By  great 
good  fortune  I  found  my  nearest  neighbor  just 
about  to  start  into  town  with  a  wagon  load  of 
farm  stuff.  He  looked  me  over  curiously  enough, 
but  consented  to  give  me  a  seat  beside  him, 
when  I  told  him  who  I  was  and  where  I  lived. 
He  considered  it  a  good  opportunity,  I  think,  to 
satisfy  a  curiosity,  which  had  evidently  for  some 
days  been  preying  upon  him.  I  fear,  however,  that 
I  proved  a  poor  source  of  information;  I  was  so 
busy  with  my  thoughts  and  plans  that  only  with 
the  greatest  effort  was  I  able  to  answer  his  constant 
questioning  at  all,  and,  even  with  all  the  will  in 
the  world,  there  was  very  little  information  that  I 
had  it  in  my  power  to  give.  His  incredulous  sus- 
picion, when  I  denied  knowing  how  much  had 
been  paid  for  the  farm,  would  have  amused  me 
at  any  other  time;  as  it  was,  I  made  the  lame  ex- 
cuse that  I  was  only  the  tenant  of  the  real  pur- 
chaser; I  cared  not  at  all  that  he  did  not  believe 
me. 

As  we  drew  into  Doylestown  a  new  thought  and 
fear  possessed  me.  If,  by  that  one  chance  in  a 
hundred,  Nancy  should  return  to  the  house,  would 
she  not  be  frightened  and  perplexed  to  find  me 


PURSUIT  91 

gone?  Naturally,  she  would  guess  that  I  had  gone 
in  search  of  her,  but  she  had  no  means  of  knowing 
when  I  would  return.  So,  as  my  new  neighbor 
drew  up  before  the  freight  office,  I  borrowed  an 
evil  office  pen  and  wrote : 

"  I  have  gone  to  look  for  you  and  I  think  I  shall 
go  to  New  York.  A  letter  or  telegram  to  me  at 
the  Gloria  Hotel  will  reach  me,  and  I  will  come 
back  within  a  few  hours. 

"  MASON." 

This  I  sealed  in  a  lading  envelope  and  gave  it 
to  my  Jehu. 

"  Would  you  be  so  kind,  neighbor,"  I  said,  "  as 
to  push  this  under  my  front  door  ?  " 

He  turned  it  over  in  a  puzzled  sort  of  way. 
"  Why,  yes,"  he  drawled,  "  certainly,  but  — " 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  I  interrupted,  seeing 
another  storm  of  questions  coming;  "it  is  quite 
important  and  I  know  I  can  depen^1  on  you. 
Thank  you  for  the  lift,  too."  And  leaving  him 
agape  with  insatiate  curiosity,  I  hurried  away  to 
the  passenger  platform. 

There,  as  I  had  hoped,  I  found  a  policeman: 
most  towns  so  display  the  force  of  their  constabu- 
lary to  the  incoming  traveler.  This  particular 
policeman  I  found  a  very  satisfactory  one.  He 
was  tall  and  wiry  and  thin,  with  a  uniform  which 
made  but  poor  pretense  of  fitting  him,  and  when 


92     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

I  came  upon  him  he  was  leaning  somnolently  against 
a  corner  of  the  station.  So  that,  at  first  glimpse, 
my  heart  sank,  only  to  rise  again  at  his  first  words, 
for  he  was  plainly  an  exile,  a  down-Easter  doing 
duty  in  a  foreign  land.  I  described  Nancy  to  him, 
and  made  some  attempt  at  describing  the  man  in 
the  brown  derby.  I  told  him  that  I  had  last  seen 
them  driving  in  a  red-wheeled  buggy,  and  to  it  all 
he  listened  with  a  lounging  alertness,  which  was, 
I  knew,  the  mask  of  a  familiar  New  England 
sagacity. 

"No,"  he  said  at  last,  "there  ain't  any  elopers 
of  any  description  taken  train  here  either  yester- 
day or  to-day,  and  I  am  on  duty  about  twenty-five 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  You  see  I  am  chief 
of  police,  and  expected  to  do  three  men's  work." 
He  paused  and  scratched  his  nose  reflectively.  "  I 
tell  you  what  I  should  do  though,  if  I  was  you. 
People  eloping  around  in  buggies  are  pretty  apt 
not  to  go  to  the  most  obvious  place.  Now,  about 
four  miles  to  the  east  of  here  is  Buckingham,  where 
you  can  get  a  train  either  north  or  south,  on  the 
Pennsylvania,  and  about  ten  miles  to  the  west  is 
Souderton,  where  you  can  catch  a  train  on  another 
branch.  I  should  say  they  might  have  gone  to 
either  one  of  them  places ;  better  try  Buckingham, 
it's  nearer." 

'  Thank  you,"  I  said ;  "  I  will." 

'  Say,"  he  called  after  me,  as  I  started  off,  "  good 


PURSUIT  93 

plan's  to  ask  around  at  livery  stables."  It  was  a 
good  plan  and  I  should  have  thought  of  it  myself, 
had  I  been  myself.  I  set  off  now  in  search  of  the 
nearest  one. 

"  Yes,"  the  proprietor  told  me,  "  I  did  rent  out 
that  red-wheeled  buggy  to  a  gent  yesterday,  and 
a  fine  state  he  brought  the  horse  back  in.  It  was 
all  very  well  to  give  me  a  ten-dollar  note,  but  no 
one  can  tell  how  much  harm  driving  like  that  does 
to  a  horse;  maybe  you  don't  find  out  till  weeks 
later.  No,  the  gentleman  was  all  alone;  there 
wasn't  no  lady  at  all  with  him.  Sure,  I  could  let 
you  have  a  rig  and  driver  to  take  you  over  to 
Buckingham." 

As  I  drove  along  the  red  Pennsylvania  road  to 
the  little  town  of  Buckingham,  I  tried  to  picture 
to  myself,  as  best  I  could,  just  what  the  man  in 
the  brown  derby  had  done;  I  knew  that  he  had 
hired  a  horse  in  Doylestown,  that  he  had  driven 
to  our  farm  and  in  some  manner  taken  ITancy  away 
with  him;  but  some  hours  later  he  had  returned 
alone  with  the  buggy,  which  had  evidently  been 
driven  fast  and  far;  therefore  he  must  have  left 
Nancy  in  some  other  certain  care,  probably  in  the 
town  from  which  he  ultimately  meant  to  take  the 
train.  One  can't  very  well  lock  up  a  distinguished 
and  beautiful  young  lady  in  a  village  hotel;  so  that 
the  probability  was  that  he  had  left  her  in  the 
care  of  some  trustworthy,  private  individual; 


94     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

under  what  pretext  I  could  not  know,  perhaps  under 
none,  providing  the  guardian  he  chose  was  de- 
pendably unscrupulous. 

So  at  Buckingham  I  again  followed  the  advice 
of  my  exiled  policeman,  and  went  first  of  all  to 
the  livery  stable,  and,  to  my  joy,  found  out  that 
the  red-wheeled  buggy  had  been  put  up  there  for 
an  hour  the  evening  before. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  the  stableman,  "  your  party 
stopped  in  here  about  eight  o'clock,  and  asked  if  I 
knew  of  any  one  who  had  lodgings." 

"  Was  there  a  lady  with  him  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Lady,"  he  laughed,  "  sure  there  was,  two  on 
'cm.  They  had  the  top  up,  and  I  couldn't  see  them 
very  plain,  but  I  should  say  one  of  them  was  young 
and  slim,  the  other  middle-aged  and  stoutish.  I 
sent  'em  around  to  Mrs.  Lathrop's." 

'  Two  ladies,"  I  repeated,  puzzled. 

"  Sure,  only  two,  and  there  wasn't  hardly  room 
for  them.  How  many  was  you  looking  for  ?  " 

'Two  are  quite  enough,"  I  answered;  "I  think 
I'll  drive  around  to  Mrs.  Lathrop's.  They  are  the 
friends  I  am  looking  for."  And  I  left  him  star- 
ing at  my  recklessly  large  tip;  for  here  was  the 
third  person  whom  my  theory  demanded,  and  with- 
out whom  I  could  not  explain  the  midnight  return 
of  the  man  in  the  brown  derby. 


X 

MRS.   LATHROP'S 

MRS.  LATHROP'S  I  found  easily  enough. 
It  was  a  formal  little  white-trimmed  yel- 
low house  of  two  stories,  and  it  looked  for  all  the 
world  as  if  it  had  strayed  from  some  toy  village. 
It  was  set  squarely  in  a  little  handkerchief  of  a 
lawn,  and  dwarfed  and  shaded  by  a  towering 
giant  elm.  If  it  had  been  in  the  tree  instead  of 
under  it,  it  would  have  made  a  very  presentable 
bird-house;  and  Mrs.  Lathrop,  as  she  threw  open 
the  front  door  with  a  jerk  and  popped  out  to  stand 
squarely  before  me  on  the  door-sill,  seemed  like 
some  small  brown  bird  herself. 

"  You  rent  lodgings,  I  believe,"  I  said. 

She  cocked  her  head  and  stood  looking  at  me 
with  her  arms  a-kimbo,  her  bright  brown  eyes 
searching,  I  thought,  every  detail  of  my  appear- 
ance. "  Sometimes  to  some  people,"  she  said ; 
"  very  seldom  to  single  gentlemen.  Do  you 
smoke?  " 

"  Not  in  lodgings,"  I  laughed,  "  and  besides,  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  am  looking  for  any;  but  may 
I  come  in  for  a  moment  ?  " 

95 


96  THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Anything  to  sell?  "  she  asked. 

I  shook  my  head.  "  Nothing  at  all ;  but  I  think 
I  should  like  some  luncheon,  if  you  can  give  me 
some.  Now  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question  or  so." 

"Question?"  she  turned  abruptly  in  the  little 
hall.  "The  census  man  was  here  last  week,  and 
a  suffragette  the  week  before  that,  and  the  week 
before  that  a  young  woman  who  said  she  was 
getting  statistics  on  the  cost  of  living.  It  seems's 
if  I'd  answered  enough  questions  to  last  out  a  year 
or  so." 

"  My  questions  aren't  personal,"  I  explained,  "  at 
least  not  personal  to  you.  But  you  had  some 
lodgers  here  last  night,  I  have  been  informed,  who 
probably  left  early  this  morning,  and,  if  you  don't 
mind,  I  should  like  to  ask  you  something  about 
them." 

"  There,  I  knew  it,"  she  cried ;  "  I  knew  very 
well  that  something  wasn't  right,  and  that  some- 
body would  be  around  pretty  soon  blaming  me  for 
it.  What  is  it  you  want  to  know  ?  Are  you  some 
friend  of  the  doctor's  ?  " 

"The  doctor?" 

"  Yes,  that  long-nosed  young  fellow  in  charge." 
"  No,  I  could  hardly  call  myself  a  friend,"  I 
answered,  "  but  there  are  some  things  I  would  like 
to  ask  about  him  and  the  ladies  with  him."  I  was 
strung  and  tortured  with  anxiety,  and  now  that  I 
realized  that  Nancy  had  been  here  but  a  few  short 


MRS.  LATHROP'S  97 

hours  before,  I  suppose  that  some  reflection  of  my 
mental  tenseness  must  have  shown  itself  in  my  face, 
or  perhaps  in  some  quality  of  voice.  Certainly,  as 
Mrs.  Lathrop  glanced  up  at  me,  her  whole  manner 
changed  on  the  instant. 

"  Land  of  love,"  she  said,  "  there  don't  a  year  go 
by  but  I  get  stupider.  Here's  a  young  man  most 
starved  to  death,  and  I  keep  him  standing  in  the 
hall,  as  if  I  didn't  care  whether  he  ever  ate  or  not. 
You  come  right  out  in  the  kitchen  while  I  get  you 
some  dinner.  Don't  know's  I'll  ever  have  any 
sense." 

"  I  think,"  I  protested,  "  that  I  shall  have  to  ask 
my  questions  first.  I  am  rather  worried  about 
those  people,  and  I'm  afraid  that  I  could  not  wait 
until  after  dinner  to  find  out  about  them." 

"  Bless  your  heart,  why  should  you  ?  If  I  can't 
tell  a  bit  of  gossip  in  my  kitchen,  I  certainly  couldn't 
tell  it  anywhere.  Breaking  eggs  and  the  news 
sort  of  go  together.  It  takes  a  stronger-minded 
woman  than  I  am  to  make  any  kind  of  answers 
with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  There's  nothing 
clears  the  mind  up  as  good  as  a  saucepan."  She 
pushed  open  the  kitchen  door  as  she  spoke  and  we 
stepped  from  the  dim  hall  into  its  flooding  sun- 
light. "  You  sit  right  down  at  the  table  there  and 
fire  away;  but,  in  the  first  place,  how  would  you 
rather  have  your  eggs?  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  I  answered ;  "  any  way  that 


98     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

is  most  convenient.  I  was  told,  Mrs.  Lathrop,  that 
you  put  up  a  gentleman  and  two  ladies  here  last 
night." 

"  No,"  she  said  over  her  shoulder,  "  only  two 
ladies,  the  doctor  didn't  stay,  but  he  came  back  for 
them  this  morning.  I  certainly  should  not  have 
taken  them  if  I  had  known  about  them  at  the  go  off. 
Land  knows,  I  need  boarders  bad  enough,  but  I 
like  them  to  be  good  plain  every-day  boarders,  and 
not  unfortunates  and  their  nurses.  I  know  I'll 
dream  about  that  poor  lovely  little  thing  all  my 
days.  Do  you  suppose  they're  kind  to  people  like 
that?" 

"  People  like  what?  "  I  faltered. 

Mrs.  Lathrop  banged  down  the  stove-lid  and 
turned  squarely  on  me.  "  Suppose  you  tell  me 
about  them  first,"  she  said,  "  and  what  you  want 
to  know  about  them.  I  don't  mind  saying  right 
here  that  I  like  your  looks,  and  that  I  didn't  like 
his;  but  he  paid  his  bill  fair  and  square  enough, 
and  it  seems  only  right  you  should  tell  me  what 
you  want  of  them,  before  I,  perhaps,  make  more 
trouble  for  that  poor  unfortunate  child." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can  only  describe  one  of  them 
plainly  to  you,"  said  I,  "  and  can  give  you  but  a 
detail  or  so  about  the  others.  What  they  looked 
like  is  one  of  the  things  that  I  wanted  to  find  out 
from  you.  I  am  looking  for  a  man  and,  two 
women ;  all  I  know  about  one  of  the  women  is  that 


MRS.  LATHROP'S  99 

she  is  probably  stout  and  middle-aged,  and  all  I 
know  about  the  man  is  that  he  is  nearly  as  tall 
as  I,  has  a  long  nose,  and  wore  either  a  checked 
cloth  cap  or  a  brown  derby."  Mrs.  Lathrop 
nodded. 

"  And  about  the  young  lady  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  About  the  young  lady  I  can  tell  you  a  great 
deal.  She  is  not  tall ;  I  suppose  you  would  say 
that  she  is  barely  of  medium  height.  Her  eyes 
are  gray  or  blue  or  violet,  you  can  never  be  cer- 
tain which;  and  her  hair  is  golden,  not  yellow 
golden,  but  the  color  of  actual  gold  itself.  She  — 
I  find  it  is  not  so  easy  to  describe  her  after  all. 
But  she  looks  as  if  she  had  never  grown  to  what 
she  is,  but  as  if  God  had  made  her  so  all  at  once, 
and  loved  what  He  made."  I  stopped,  stammering. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop;  "now  will 
you  tell  me,  please,  what  it  is  you  want  with  them?  " 

"  I  want  to  find  them,"  I  said ;  "  I  am  not  quite 
sure  what  I  shall  do  with  the  man  or  woman.  The 
young  lady  is  my  wife." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  stared  at  me  in  round-eyed  won- 
der, as  if  for  a  moment  speech  had  been  taken  from 
her;  and  across  the  kitchen  table  she  faced  me 
squarely.  "  Is  that  true  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  I  said. 

For  another  moment  she  looked  me  in  the  eyes, 
then  turned  to  her  cooking  with  a  clatter  and  fury 
unbelievable  in  such  a  little,  bird-like  person.  Pots 


ioo     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

slid  clattering  to  the  back  of  the  stove,  which  hissed 
and  steamed  with  flying  hot  water,  a  dish  fell  from 
her  hands  and  she  stamped  upon  it  recklessly;  and 
of  a  sudden  speech  came  to  her  in  a  perfect  torrent 
"  I  might  have  known  they  lied,"  she  said ;  "  lied 
and  triple-lied,  that's  the  word.  Doctor!  He 
couldn't  have  doctored  a  horse;  and  she's  a  nurse! 
I  thought  when  she  first  came  in  here,  she  looked  as 
if  she  put  more  peroxide  on  her  hair  than  on  her 
patients.  Nurse,  Nurse!  Whoever  heard  of  a 
nurse  with  a  face  like  a  cast-iron  lawn  dog,  and  an 
expression  that  tried  to  look  somewhere  between  St. 
Cecilia  and  a  kitten,  and  only  came  out  looking  as  if 
it  belonged  to  the  matron  of  a  police  station.  Her 
a  nurse,  and  I  left  her  all  night  with  that  poor 
angel!" 

"  Nurse?  "  said  I.     "  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"Oh,   I   thought   you   knew,    but   perhaps    you 

don't.     He  told  me  first,  the  blackguard ;  and  then 

she  told  me,  and  kept  telling  me,  that  that  poor, 

lovely,  little  thing  was  insane ;  not  violent  you  know, 

or  I  should  never  have  taken  them,  but  just  that 

she   had   delusions,   and   that   she   had   got   away 

from  the  place  where  she  was  being  cured,  and  that 

they  had  found  her  and  were  taking  her  back." 

"  Damn  him !  "  said  I.     "  Did  he  tell  you  that?  " 

"  Amen,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  and  it  is  just 

what  he  told  me,  and  she  added  more  to  it,  that 

'  nurse '  did.     And  I,  who  thought  all  my  life  that 


MRS.  LATHROP'S  101 

I  had  my  wits,  believed  them.  Believed  them  al- 
most, that  is.  Thank  heaven,  I  had  a  grain  of 
sense  left.  Is  your  name  Mason  Ellsworth  ?  " 

I  was  striding  the  room  now ;  but,  with  the  abrupt 
question  I  stopped,  my  hand  almost  roughly  upon 
her  shoulder.  "Yes,"  I  said;  "why?  Did  Nancy 
give  you  anything  for  me,  any  message  that  you 
have  been  keeping  from  me?"  Mrs.  Lathrop 
winced  under  my  hand  and,  even  in  my  mad  ex- 
citement, I  gathered  sense  enough  to  mutter  an 
apology. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  she  said,  "if  I'd  been 
you,  I'd  have  drowned  me,  and  small  loss  to  a 
world  of  sensible  folks;  just  you  wait  a  minute." 
She  dragged  a  heavy  chair  across  the  kitchen  floor, 
and  hopping  up  on  it,  stood  on  tiptoes  to  feel 
along  the  high  shelf,  and  reach  down  a  small  brown 
preserve  jar.  "Here,"  she  said;  "  take*  it"  And 
as  I  took  it  and  put  it  on  the  table,  she  hopped 
down  again  beside  me,  and  taking  off  the  cover  with 
one  hand,  plunged  the  other  into  its  brown,  shallow 
depths.  "  Here,"  she  said,  "  is  the  letter  she  gave 
me.  Heaven  only  knows  when  the  poor  dear  found 
a  chance  to  write  it,  with  that  fat  cat  following 
around  every  minute.  But  she  was  clever  too,  and 
slid  it  into  my  lap  this  morning  under  her  very 
nose,  with  a  whisper  to  give  it  to  you  if  you 
should  come,  and  to  write  you  if  you  should  not. 
The  woman  caught  her  at  the  last  part  of  it,  and 


102     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

took  the  trouble  to  tell  me  later  that  it  was  all  a 
part  of  her  delusion;  and  I  was  idiot  enough 
almost  to  believe  her,  and  to  have  sat  here  all  this 
morning,  twiddling  my  thumbs,  when  I  ought  to 
have  been  down  at  the  telegraph  office.  But  I  kept 
my  mouth  shut  about  the  letter,  because  I  was 
afraid  it  might  get  the  little  lady  into  trouble;  and 
delusions  or  not,  I  liked  her  as  much  as  I  didn't 
like  the  other  one  the  minute  I  set  eyes  upon  her." 
I  unfolded  the  scrap  of  paper  which  she  handed 
me.  Nancy's  note  was  pencil  written  and  on  an 
irregular  bit  of  paper,  evidently  torn  from  the  cov- 
ering of  a  closet  shelf  or  the  lining  of  a  bureau 
drawer.  It  read : 

*  They  came  while  you  were  away.  I  did  my 
best,  but  they  took  me.  I  think  we  are  on  our  way 
to  New  York.  They  are  pretending  I  am  insane. 
Follow  us  there  if  you  can,  but  be  careful,  for  I 
fear,  too,  for  your  safety.  He  is  very  angry  and 
capable  of  almost  anything.  He  calls  himself,  now, 
Doctor  Morrison,  but,  as  you  may  have  guessed  by 
this  time,  he  is  my  — " 

"  Was  this  all  she  gave  you  ?  "  said  I,  glancing 
up. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop. 

I  held  the  note  to  her,  face  down.  "  Have  you 
any  paper  like  this  in  the  house  ?  "  I  asked. 

Mrs.   Lathrop  looked   at   it  closely,    feeling   its 


MRS.  LATHROP'S  103 

quality  between  her  finger  and  thumb.  "  It  looks 
like  shelf  paper,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  "  and 
I  have  it  pretty  much  all  over  the  house." 

"  Then,"  I  asked,  "  may  I  see  the  room  where 
the  ladies  slept  last  night?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  and  led  the  way 
up-stairs,  where  she  pushed  open  the  door  of  a 
rather  small,  sunny  room.  "  This  is  the  room  I 
always  give  to  two  ladies  staying  together,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  bright  and  cheerful  and  there  are  two  beds." 

Bright  and  cheerful  it  certainly  was.  Bureaus, 
beds,  chairs  and  tables  were  alike  white  enameled; 
and  the  gay  chintz  window  curtains  matched  the 
large-figured  paper  of  the  walls. 

"  May  I  look  around  ?  "  I  asked. 

Mrs.  Lathrop  nodded.  There  was  only  one 
closet,  and  on  its  two  shelves  white  paper  of  the 
same  quality  as  that  I  carried  in  my  hand  lay  un- 
disturbed, and  in  each  empty  drawer  of  the  two 
enameled  bureaus  I  found  fitted  sheets,  each,  alas, 
intact.  For  a  moment  I  stood  puzzled,  looking 
rather  hopelessly  about  the  room.  This  paper  must 
have  come  from  somewhere,  I  thought,  and  yet  — 
Then  I  noticed  a  small  table  by  each  bed,  little 
square  stands  that  people  use,  I  believe,  for  a  night 
light  or  drinking  water,  each  with  a  shallow  drawer 
for  near-at-hand  necessities.  And  as  Mrs.  Lathrop 
stood  interestedly  watching  me,  I  pulled  open  the 
drawer  of  one,  and  found  it  absolutely  bare. 


io4     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Were  not  these  lined  too  ?  "  I  asked. 

For  answer  she  pulled  open  the  drawer  of  the 
other,  and  held  up  a  small  oblong  of  the  white  paper. 

"  But  this  one  is  empty,"  I  said. 

"  Then  it  is  empty  since  last  night,"  Mrs.  Lathrop 
answered ;  "  for  I  went  over  the  room  carefully 
yesterday  morning." 

Here,  then,  was  where  Nancy  had  found  paper 
for  her  note.  That,  at  least,  was  pretty  sure;  but 
nevertheless  my  heart  sank  with  a  great  disap- 
pointment. The  letters  of  the  note  in  my  hand  were 
written  stragglingly,  and  once  one  line  actually 
rose  and  lapped  over  the  line  above  it,  as  if  it  had 
been  written  by  some  blind  person.  Evidently 
Nancy  had  been  watched  very  closely  indeed,  so  that 
her  only  opportunity  for  writing  this  note  to  me  had 
been  some  time  during  the  terrors  of  her  long 
night,  and  she  had  written  in  the  dark.  In  the  dark, 
too,  I  imagined,  she  must  have  torn  away  the  writ- 
ten portion  of  the  sheet,  taking  her  chance  as  she 
could,  perhaps  trembling  with  the  slight  tearing 
sound  of  the  stiff  paper,  and  in  her  nervous  haste 
leaving  a  portion  of  her  note  still  in  the  drawer. 
No,  after  all,  she  would  not  quite  have  done  that; 
if  she  had  been  careful  enough  to  write  to  me,  it 
did  not  seem  probable  that  she  would  have  left  a 
sheet  with  a  torn  corner  behind,  as  a  certain  indica- 
tion of  what  she  had  done,  should  her  guarding 
dragon  look  through  the  room  in  the  morning. 


MRS.  LATHROP'S  105 

I  sat  down  for  a  moment  on  the  edge  of  the  bed, 
trying  to  imagine  what  she  would  have  done.  Then 
I  glanced  over  at  the  fireplace;  it  was  clean  and 
empty. 

Mrs.  Lathrop  was  watching  me  with  interest. 
"  No,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head ;  "  no  burnt 
paper." 

Perhaps,  I  thought,  the  dragon  did  find  the  rest 
of  the  sheet;  but  if  she  had  done  that,  she  would 
have  suspected  the  note  itself,  and  would  either  have 
got  it  away  from  Nancy  or  questioned  Mrs. 
Lathrop  about  it.  It  seemed  more  probable  then, 
as  I  thought  it  over,  that  Nancy  had  softly  slid  the 
sheet  from  the  drawer,  and  had  drawn  it  under  the 
bed-clothes,  where  she  might  crumple  it  to  a  ball 
in  silence.  I  got  up  and  leaned  out  of  the  window ; 
there  was  not  a  scrap  of  paper  upon  the  little 
lawn. 

"  What  are  you  looking  for  now  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Lathrop. 

"I  thought,"  said  I,  "that  she  might  have 
crumpled  up  the  rest  of  the  sheet  and  thrown  it  out 
of  the  window." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  had  been  standing,  now  she  sat 
down  with  a  gasp.  "  Now,  for  certain,  you'll  think 
I'm  the  biggest  idiot  in  the  world,"  she  said. 
"  There  was  a  little  ball  of  paper  on  the  lawn  this 
morning.  I  suppose  I  am  a  tidy  soul,  Mr.  Mason, 
for  I  didn't  think  anything  about  that  paper  at  all, 


io6     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

except  that  it  was  on  my  lawn,  and  I  put  it  —  dear 
knows,  I  am  afraid  to  tell  you  —  into  the  stove." 

The  little  bird-like  face  was  pink  with  self -indig- 
nation, and  I  think  her  disappointment  was  only  less 
than  my  own. 

"Well,  it  can't  be  helped,"  I  said.  "At  least 
we  know  now  how  the  note  was  written,  and  I  can 
tell  you  I  am  glad  of  any  news  at  all.  What  is  the 
first  train  I  can  get  from  here  to  New  York  or  Phila- 
delphia?" 

"  There  isn't  one  in  either  direction  for  an  hour 
and  a  half,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  and,  good  sakes, 
we  have  both  of  us  forgotten  about  dinner." 


XI 

THE   GUESTS 

OVER  my  luncheon,  or  dinner,  as  Mrs.  Lathrop 
preferred  to  call  it,  my  hostess  told  me 
everything  that  she  could  remember.  She  was 
a  keen  little  woman  and  a  sympathetic  one,  and 
when  I  told  her  that  Nancy  and  I  had  been  mar- 
ried but  a  day  or  so,  her  indignation,  already  very 
much  excited,  knew  no  bounds.  She  said  that 
about  ten  oclock  on  the  evening  before,  the  red- 
wheeled  buggy  had  drawn  up  before  her  gate,  and 
that  a  man  describing  himself  as  Doctor  Morrison 
had  rung  her  bell  and  asked  if  she  had  lodgings  for 
the  night  for  two  ladies.  He  himself,  he  had  ex- 
plained, could  only  stay  for  supper  and  would  re- 
turn for  them  in  the  morning. 

"  I  didn't  like  him  very  much  when  I  first  saw 
him,"  she  said,  "  and  I  certainly  shouldn't  have 
taken  him  all  by  himself,  and  so  late  at  night. 
But,  after  all,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  I  have  lodgings  to 
let,  and,  late  or  not,  I  could  hardly  turn  two  ladies 
away  from  the  door;  but  I  should  very  much  have 
liked  to  before  we  got  through  supper. 

"  As  soon  as  he  found  I  had  a  room  he  went  back 
107 


io8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

to  the  buggy  and  whispered  for  a  while,  and  then 

the  two  ladies  got  out  of  the  carriage  and  came 

into  my  hall,  the  doctor  and  the  nurse,  as  I  can't 

help  calling  them,   walking  on   each  side  of   the 

young  lady.     It  was  not  until  the  doctor  had  gone 

to  put  his  horse  in  the  stable,  that  I  really  got  a 

good  look  at  the  other  two.     Dear,  dear,  but   it 

puzzled  me.     The  young  lady  (and  you  were  right 

in  saying  that  she  was  lovely),  looked  white  and 

frightened  and  as  if  she  had  been  crying;  and  her 

pretty  dress  was  torn  at  the  neck.     And  all  the 

while,  as  they  stood  there  in  the  hall,  the  other 

woman  kept  a  hand  on  her  arm  and  looked   as 

if  she  was  daring  her  to  say  a  word.     I  tell  you  I 

didn't  like  it  at  all,  but  here  they  were,   and   I 

showed  them  up  to  their  room.     Pretty  soon  the 

doctor  came   back,   and   I   liked   things   still   less. 

He's  an  ugly  one,  is  the  doctor,  and  you  can  take 

my  word  for  it.     Have  you  ever  seen  him?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered ;  "  only  once,  vaguely,  and 
in  the  moonlight." 

"  You  know  then,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  that 
he  is  almost  as  tall  as  you  are,  with  great  heavy 
sloping  shoulders  and  queer  broad  stumpy  hands. 
His  hair  was  black  and  not  very  thick  and  grew 
down  low  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  in  what 
I  think  is  called  a  widow's  peak,  and  what  with 
the  long  nose  under  it  and  eyes  too  small  and  near 
together  and  that  queer,  mean,  little  baby  mouth 


THE  GUESTS  109 

of  his;  I  can  tell  you  I  was  sorry  I  hadn't  slammed 
the  door  in  his  face." 

Here  at  last  was  some  picture  of  the  man  to  go 
upon. 

"How  was  he  dressed?"  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  I 
remember  that  he  did  have  a  brown  derby  and  that 
his  clothes  were  brown  too;  smooth,  I  think,  and 
with  a  narrow  stripe.  He  wore  a  ring  with  a 
sort  of  pointed  purple  stone  in  it.  All  his  things 
looked  as  if  he  had  plenty  of  money.  Still,  I 
think  I  hated  the  woman  more.  Perhaps  a  woman 
always  does  hate  a  woman  more,  when  she's  hating 
at  all.  I  thought  she  was  fat  at  first,  but  she 
wasn't,  only  heavy  and  broad  and  strong,  with  a 
square  mannish  face  and  a  silly  mop  of  chorus- 
girl  hair  over  it. 

"  No  one  said  very  much  while  the,  were  eating 
their  supper.  The  two  of  them  had  the  girl  be- 
tween them,  and  talked  across  her,  while  she  said 
nothing.  Once  or  twice  the  doctor  raised  his  thin 
eyebrows  at  me,  as  if  he  meant  me  to  understand 
something  he  didn't  want  to  say  at  the  moment. 
He  had  caught  me  looking  at  the  girl,  poor  dear, 
I  suppose,  and  all  he  could  think  of  was  to  make 
a  mystery  of  it;  for  it  was  pretty  plain  that  she 
was  frightened  and  unhappy,  and  once,  when  she 
raised  her  hands  from  her  lap,  I  noticed  a  red 
mark  about  her  wrists,  as  if  they  had  been  tied 


i  io     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

together  by  a  cord.     So,  when  he  came  out  into 
the  kitchen  to  pay  me,  I  asked  him  about  it. 

" '  Perhaps  I  should  have  told  you  about  it,  Mrs. 
Lathrop,'  he  said,  '  but  there  are  things  that  one 
does  not  speak  of  unless  it  is  absolutely  necessary. 
This  young  lady  has  run  away  from  a  sanatorium, 
and  her  nurse  and  I  are  bringing  her  back.  It 
would  have  been  better  if  some  one  of  her  family 
could  have  come  with  us,  but  they  are  all  abroad  at 
present.' 

" '  Do  you  mean  to  say/  I  asked  him,  '  that 
that  lovely  little  thing  is  out  of  her  mind  ?  ' 

" '  Only  slightly,  Mrs.  Lathrop,'  he  told  me;  'we 
hope  to  have  her  well  in  a  year  or  so.  Absolute 
quiet  and  modern  treatment  work  wonders,  you 
know.  She  imagines  that  she  has  been  married, 
and  will  probably  tell  you  so  if  she  gets  the 
chance.' 

'Well,  she  wears  a  wedding-ring,'  said  I. 
That  made  him  scowl  at  me,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  It 
was  pretty  plain  he  thought  I  was  too  inquisitive; 
but  I  am  not  one  that  minds  other  people's  scowls 
much,  and  I  guess  he  saw  that  he  was  doing  the 
wrong  thing.  So,  finally,  he  told  me  that  they 
let  her  wear  it  to  keep  her  quiet,  and  I  more  than 
half  believed  it,  because  you  couldn't  tell  from  her 
face  whether  she  was  married  or  not." 

"  Then  he  went  in  and  whispered  to  that  nurse 


THE  GUESTS  in 

a  few  minutes,  and  went  out  without  saying  an- 
other word  to  me.  Pretty  soon  after  that  the 
ladies  went  up-stairs  to  bed."  Mrs.  Lathrop 
paused  and  sighed,  and  I,  too,  sat  silent,  impo- 
tently  angry  at  the  thought  of  the  night  that  Nancy 
must  have  passed,  and  must  pass  again,  for  how 
long  I  could  not  say.  I  looked  up  to  find  Mrs. 
Lathrop  staring  at  me  in  astonishment. 

"What  is  it?  "I  asked. 

Mrs.  Lathrop  chuckled.  "  Do  you  know,  Mr. 
Ellsworth,  that  all  this  time  you  have  been  eating 
dinner  in  your  gloves  ?  " 

"  Why,  so  I  have,"  I  said,  "  but  I  am  quite 
through  now,  so  the  harm  is  done." 

For  two  days  I  had  forgotten  my  hands,  and  this 
.sudden  reminder  startled  me,  bringing  back  with 
a  rush,  as  it  did,  the  accustomed  pain  of  my  afflic- 
tion; and  yet  this  time  a  new  thought  and  feeling 
mingled  with  the  bitter  old  one;  for  I  glanced 
down  at  my  gloved  hands  and  remembered  how 
strong  they  were,  with  what  a  compensation,  poor 
though  it  was,  of  unusual  physical  power  they  were 
endowed,  and  the  reflection  heartened  me.  I  would 
bring  my  purpose  to  the  level  of  my  physical  effi- 
ciency, and,  matching  sheer  strength  with  sheer 
determination,  knew  that  no  world  as  small  as  this 
could  hide  my  love  away  from  me,  nor  him,  who 
had  taken  and  frightened  her,  from  the  inevitable 


112 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 


terror  of  my  grasp.  In  all  my  life  I  could  re- 
member putting  forth  my  strength  but  once,  and 
then  it  was  my  boy's  strength. 

The  picture  flashed  grimly  before  me  now,  as  I 
sat  gazing  at  my  gloved  hands,   standing  on   the 
instant  clear  and  distinct  before  my  mental  vision, 
as  such  pictures  will.     It  had  happened  at  school, 
when  I  was  a  second-former  and  fourteen  years  old, 
I  think.     I  was  a  new-comer,  and,  as  I  have  said, 
not  popular.     One  of  the  sixth  formers,  a  great 
meddlesome  fellow  and  the  terror  of  the  smaller 
boys,  had  stolen  into  my  room  at  night,  to  drag 
me  out  to  the  hazing  that  most  new  boys,  and  all 
unpopular  ones,   received.     I   was  asleep,   and   he 
had  pinioned  me  so  close  and  so  suddenly,  that 
I  awoke  with  a  start,  and  yet  was  unable  to  strike ; 
but  in  the  darkness  and  in  the  confusion  my  fingers 
met  his  throat  and  only  tightened  there,  it  seemed 
to  me,  for  a  moment.     Yet  he  had  fallen  across 
me  in  the. dark,  with  twitching  body  and  breath 
that  came  so  raspingly  that,  as  I  grew  wider  awake, 
it  filled  me  with  concern,  and  I  had  struggled  from 
beneath  him  and  made  a  light.     His   eyes  were 
half   open,   half   shut,   and   his   face  strange   and 
blotchy.     I  remember  that  I  called  the  master  of 
our  floor,  that  there  was  a  scurrying  of  feet  and  a 
general  lighting  of  lights,   and  a  silly  confusion. 
The  doctor  had  come  and  spoken  of  "  crushed 
bones  in  the  throat."     He  was  around  again  in  a 


THE  GUESTS  113 

week  or  so ;  but  only  the  fact  that  it  had  happened  in 
my  own  room  saved  me  from  expulsion.  I  could 
get  no  one  to  believe  that  I  had  but  gripped  him  for 
a  moment,  when  I  was  stupid  with  sleep.  But  it 
was  the  last  physical  trouble  I  had  in  school,  and 
I  had  never  used  my  strength  to  the  utmost  since 
that  time.  It  had  grown,  I  knew,  but  I  never 
thought  much  about  it;  my  hands  had  made  me 
shy,  and  though  I  had  hoped  in  vain  for  friends, 
at  least  I  had  never  had  an  enemy,  never  had 
an  enemy  until  now;  but  hate  had  come  into  my 
life  almost  hand  in  hand  with  love. 

I  looked  up  to  find  Mrs.  Lathrop  staring  at  me 
across  the  table.  She  colored,  but  kept  her  eyes 
bravely  upon  mine. 

"  If  I  was  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  she  said,  "  I 
should  go  a  little  easy.  That  doctor  deserves  a 
good  beating  right  now,  but  it  won't,  help  either  you 
or  anybody  else  to  kill  him." 

"  Kill  him  ?  "  I  questioned. 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  isn't  that  what  you  were 
thinking  about?  You  have  been  sitting  there  for 
the  last  five  minutes  looking  like  battle,  murder  and 
sudden  death." 

"  I  don't  wonder  the  doctor  thought  you  ob- 
servant, Mrs.  Lathrop,"  I  said.  "  It's  all  right, 
though.  I'll  remember  not  to  kill  him,  although 
it  will  be  pretty  hard,  once  I  get  my  hands  on  him." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  do  give  him  a  good  scare." 


ir4     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"You  have  asked  me  why  I  did  not  take  my 
gloves  off,  Mrs.  Lathrop.  I  keep  them  on  because 
people  find  my  hands  unpleasant." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  smiled  incredulously.  "  Do  just 
as  you  like,"  she  said,  "  but  I  shouldn't  be  afraid 
/  should  think  any  such  thing,  if  I  were  you." 

I  stripped  one  glove  away,  because  I  had  had 
enough  of  the  subject.  To  my  surprise  her  face 
showed  no  flicker  of  astonishment. 

"  Well,  take  off  the  other,"  she  said;  "  they  don't 
trouble  me  any.  What  a  queer  young  man  you 
are!  Do  you  expect  a  woman  of  my  age  to  faint 
because  your  hands  are  a  little  marked?  Some 
folks  have  stick-out  ears,  but  they  don't  go  around 
in  ear  tabs." 

I  took  off  my  other  glove. 

"  When  did  Mrs.  Ellsworth  give  you  the  note  ?  " 
I  asked,  after  another  little  pause. 

"  This  morning,  just  before  the  doctor  came  back 
for  them.  The  nurse  was  looking  at  her  watch 
and  getting  a  little  uneasy,  I  think;  for  every  now 
and  then  she  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  window 
to  look  up  the  road.  It  was  on  one  of  these  win- 
dow trips  she  made,  and  while  she  had  her  back 
turned,  that  the  young  lady  slid  the  note  into  my 
hand.  I  was  going  through  the  room,  when  she 
stopped  me  with  her  finger  on  her  lips.  I  smiled 
and  kept  quiet,  because,  as  I  say,  whether  she  was 
right  in  her  mind  or  not,  I  liked  her.  And  when 


Will  you  please  give  him  this? 


THE  GUESTS  115 

I  stopped  she  put  one  hand  up  to  her  hair  and 
drew  out  that  note,  which  was  all  rolled  up  like 
a  pencil.  *  If  a  gentleman  called  Mason  Ellsworth 
comes,'  she  said,  '  will  you  please  give  him  this  ? ' 
And  to  please  her  I  took  it  and  smiled  again.  She 
would  have  told  me  more,  I  think;  but  just  then 
that  woman  turned  from  the  window  and  saw 
us  together.  In  about  five  minutes  the  doctor 
came,  and  though  she  tried  hard  she  didn't  get 
another  chance  to  speak  to  me,  and,  for  that  mat- 
ter, it  wasn't  barely  five  minutes  before  the  two 
of  them  started  with  her  to  the  station,  which  is 
\vhere  you'd  better  be  starting  now,  Mr.  Ellsworth, 
to  be  sure  and  catch  your  train.  There  is  one  in 
twenty  minutes  for  Philadelphia,  and  unless  they 
started  early  just  to  fool  me,  it  was  a  train  for 
Philadelphia  they  took  themselves." 

'*  You've  been  very  good  to  me,  Mrs.  Lathrop," 
I  said,  "  and  I  do  not  know  what  I  can  ever  do  to 
repay  your  kindness  both  to  me  and  to  my  wife." 

"  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  You  can  write  to 
me  when  you  have  found  her." 


XII 

THE   COLLAR  AND  TIE 

FOR  a  happy  man  green  fields  and  country 
lanes,  pastoral  sights  and  the  murmurous 
harmonics  of  nature  lend  themselves  as  a  fitting 
and  tender  glory  to  his  happiness.  Serenities 
echo  back  serenities,  and  the  great  and  happy  heart 
of  nature  beats  in  blissful  accord  with  his  own. 
But  for1  a  man  whose  happiness  has  been  dis- 
turbed, whose  life  has  been  touched  by  care  or 
sorrow,  these  accorded  sights  and  sounds  of  the 
country  are  oppressive  madness,  and  the  very 
greatness  of  their  eternal  quality  plagues  and  vexes 
him  the  more.  For  the  country  is  never  out  of 
tune  with  itself;  its  music  is  one  vast  elemental 
chord  and  has  been  the  same  for  all  time.  So  the 
man  out  of  tune  with  himself  and  with  the  world 
finds  the  clanging  discords  of  the  many-noted  city 
a  shock  of  vigorous  relief.  Here  is  not  one  great 
melody,  but  rather  the  vigorous  uproar  of  a 
thousand  tunes ;  where  the  sane  country  would  have 
driven  him  mad,  the  mad  city  shouts  him  back  to 
sanity. 

My  little  cross-roads  local  drew  into   Philadel- 
116 


THE  COLLAR  AND  TIE  117 

phia  like  a  farmer  coming  to  the  fair.  And  as  I 
stepped  into  the  busy  turmoil  of  the  station  and 
shouldered  my  way  through  the  hurrying  im- 
personal crowds,  every  moral  fiber  in  me  took 
tonic  and  vigor  from  the  hurly-burly  about.  A 
wise  man  has  called  man's  relations  with  his  fel- 
low beings  "  antagonistic  cooperation,"  and  the 
phrase  is  a  miracle  of  inspiration,  for  we  shrink 
from  the  touch  or  too-intimate  glance  of  those 
about  us  in  instinctive  resentment,  and  yet  no 
healthy  person  wishes  himself  very  distant  from 
this  human  intimacy.  Each  one  of  us  feels  that 
he  seeks  his  lonely  goal  alone,  yet  feels  that  he 
has  lost  his  way,  unless  he  moves  with  the  crowd 
down  the  same  great  road.  And  even  to  communi- 
cate with  those  about  us  the  simplest  thought  is 
only  half  told  in  many  words.  When  all  is  said 
and  done,  love  is  the  only  language  that  ever  makes 
one  being  comprehensible  to  another.  With 
Nancy  I  had  been  happy  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life;  with'  Nancy  gone,  this  jostle  of  humanity 
awoke  in  me  a  militant  confidence  and  a  potent 
belief  that  I  should  find  mine  own. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  almost  a  feeling  of  elation 
that  I  set  about  my  task,  and,  as  is  usual  with  con- 
fidence, my  first  move  was  the  right  one. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  remember,"  I  asked  the  Pull- 
man agent,  "  a  man  in  a  brown  derby  hat  who 
came  to  you  this  morning,  and  probably  wanted  a 


ii8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

private  compartment  to  New  York;  a  tall  man 
with  sloping  shoulders,  a  large  nose  and  eyes  set 
too  near  together.  He  was  dressed  in  a  brown 
suit  with  a  narrow  strip,  and  may  or  may  not  have 
had  two  ladies  with  him." 

"  Sure,"  said  the  agent ;  "  what  about  him  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  make  sure  of  him,"  I  said.  "  Where 
did  he  go  —  to  New  York  ?  " 

"  That's  where  he  engaged  his  state-room  to," 
said  the  agent.  "  You  mean  the  man  with  the  in- 
sane young  lady  and  the  trained  nurse." 

"  Oh,  he  told  you  about  that,  did  he  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  see  we  have  only  one  state-room,  and 
that  was  engaged ;  so  he  explained  about  the  young 
lady  to  me,  and  I  moved  the  other  people.  tWe 
have  to  do  that  once  in  a  while.  It  saves  the  other 
passengers  annoyance." 

"  Doubtless,"  I  answered,  and  hurried  off  to  get 
my  ticket  for  New  York. 

I  had  only  a  few  minutes  to  wait  for  the  train, 
and  it  was  a  good  one. 

New  York,  when  I  got  there,  I  found  in 
the  drizzle  of  a  late  spring  rain.  It  was  only  about 
half-past  five,  but  under  the  dark  sky  seemed  al- 
ready evening;  so  that  I  made  what  haste  I  could 
to  find  a  quiet  little  hotel  I  knew,  where  a  com- 
fortable room  could  be  had  at  a  small  figure,  and 
where  I  felt  enough  at  home  to  compose  myself 
quietly  for  the  task  before  me.  My  best  working 


THE  COLLAR  AND  TIE  119 

clue,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  the  torn  collar  in  my 
pocket;  and  that  evening  after  supper  I  took  a 
classified  telephone  directory  up  with  me,  and  made 
a  careful  list  of  those  laundries  which  seemed  near 
enough  to  the  fashionable  zone  to  justify  the 
mental  picture  I  had  of  my  man.  I  realized,  of 
course,  that  this  list  might  omit  the  place  I  was 
looking  for,  but  there  was  a  strong  probability  that 
it  did  not,  and  the  very  making  of  it  gave  me  some- 
thing comfortably  definite  to  work  on.  I  cut, 
and  revised  and  added  to  it ;  but  prune  it  as  I  would, 
when  I  went  to  bed  that  night,  my  note-book  held 
the  formidable  array  of  over  sixty  names.  I  had 
an  appalling  day's  work  ahead  of  me,  an  Augean 
task  that  haunted  my  dreams,  and  brought  me  down 
to  breakfast  in  the  morning  to  a  dining-room  where 
the  waiters  still  blinked  with  sleepiness,  and  hud- 
dled, nondescript  scrub-women  were  but  finishing 
their  aromatic  task.  This  was  a  dreary  enough 
beginning  to  my  day,  but  coffee  heartened  me,  and 
outdoors  the  new-washed  world  preened  itself  re- 
splendently  in  the  tender  brilliance  of  the  spring 
sunshine. 

I  walked  to  the  nearest  corner  and  stood  there 
taking  deep  breaths  of  the  winey  air  as  I  watched 
the  streets  for  a  vacant  taxicab.  Taxicabs  are  a 
luxury  I  am  not  much  given  to  indulging  in,  but 
the  work  before  me  imperatively  demanded  one,  if 
it  was  ever  to  be  finished.  I  had  arranged  my  list 


120     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

in  some  sort  of  plan;  but,  even  so,  I  must  travel 
far  and  make  many  detours.  In  the  meantime, 
as  I  stood  waiting,  I  gathered  myself  together  for 
the  work  of  the  day.  Few  people,  I  suppose,  ac- 
tually realize  that  New  York  City  is  one  of  the 
finest  coast  resorts  in  the  world.  Its  very  internal 
greatness  has  made  them  forget  the  natural  beauties 
of  its  situation.  But  as  I  stood  there  on  the  corner 
taking  great  breaths  of  the  scented  May-time,  a 
little,  sturdy,  swirling  breeze  dropped  from  the 
heights  above  me,  which  was  as  redolent  of  salt 
and  the  tang  of  open  sea  as  any  breeze  that  ever 
swept  in  from  ocean  through  the  Narrows  to  stir 
the  ancient  solitudes  of  old  Manhattan  Island.  And 
in  spite  of  all  my  tense  anxiety  and  distress,  this 
illusive,  magic  potion  of  sea  and  spring  awoke  that 
indefinable  something  in  me  which  comes  to  every 
man,  once  or  twice  in  the  year, —  that  vague  whis- 
per from  his  own  soul,  perhaps,  as  illusory  and 
faint  and  fleeting  as  a  breath  upon  glass,  that 
seems  to  promise,  for  the  moment,  to  make  clear 
the  mystery  of  life  itself,  and  in  the  moment  is 
gone,  to  leave  him  only  a  reasonless  impression 
of  some  power  and  faith  and  beauty  beyond  his 
daily  ken.  Strangely  enough  I  found  myself  lis- 
tening half-expectantly  for  the  words  of  a  song 
that  for  a  moment  I  could  not  recall ;  then  suddenly 
I  knew  what  they  were,  that  little,  soaring,  all-tri- 
umphant song  of  Pippa's : 


THE  COLLAR  AND  TIE  121 

'  The  year's  at  the  spring 
And  day's  at  the  morn ; 
Morning's  at  seven; 
The  hillside's  dew-pearled ; 
The  lark's  on  the  wing; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorn : 
God's  in  His  heaven  — 
All's  right  with  the  world!" 

Nancy  was  lost  but  I  should  find  her;  wherever 
she  was,  I  knew  that  she  thought  of  me  and  loved 
me;  knew  that  in  spite  of  pain  and  sorrow  and 
suffering  all  was  right  with  the  world. 

Because  he  was  dour  and  glum  and  dirty,  I  let 
one  driver  with  a  perfectly  good  taxi  pass  me  un- 
signaled.  His  successor  I  chose  with  satisfaction; 
for  he  was  a  smiling  and  rosy  young  fellow,  as 
spick  and  span  and  debonair  as  the  driver  of  an 
English  four-in-hand,  and,  like  that  mighty  person, 
bore  himself  with  a  jaunty,  assertive  professional- 
ism and  sported  a  boutonniere  of  violets. 

"  Are  you  game  for  a  job  that  may  take  us  al- 
most all  day?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  Right-O,"  said  the  driver,  and  threw  open  the 
door. 

I  am  afraid  that  we  broke  the  speed  law  contin- 
ually, but  a  thousand  others  must  have  been  break- 
ing it  too;  all  the  world  goes  faster  and  more 
vigorously  on  such  a  day.  We  dodged  in  and  out 
of  heavy  traffic,  skidded  about  corners,  and 


122     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

stopped,  when  perforce  we  must  stop,  with  a 
miraculous  and  not  unpleasant  abruptness.  It  got 
to  be  a  kind  of  routine;  as  I  got  out  at  one  place 
I  would  give  him  the  number  of  the  next,  and  hav- 
ing made  my  inquiries  would  find  the  tonneau  door 
thrown  open  for  me,  and  the  cab  leaping  forward 
even  as  I  sprang  into  it.  And  although  place  after 
place  I  drew  blank,  yet  we  seemed  to  move  forward 
with  such  a  swift  fatality,  that  no  single  failure, 
or  series  of  failures,  seemed  important  or  discour- 
aging. 

Once,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Madison  Square, 
we  made  a  detour  to  visit  a  haberdasher,  whose 
name  the  scarf  bore;  but  there,  also,  I  failed.  I 
was  right,  they  told  me,  in  supposing  that  they 
made  few  ties  of  one  design;  they  had  made  only 
twelve  of  this  particular  silk,  but  it  was  a  year 
since  they  had  had  it  in  stock,  and  they  could  not  in 
the  least  recall  the  customers  who  had  bought  them. 
Indeed,  they  sold  many  things  to  people  who  were 
not  rated  as  regular  customers  of  the  firm,  for 
their  reputation  was  somewhat  national,  and 
transient  visitors  in  New  York  from  all  parts  of 
the  country  were  apt  to  drop  in  and  make  a  few 
purchases,  as  a  regular  part  of  their  schedule  of 
"  doing  the  town." 

"  But  if  you  could  in  some  way  find  out  the 
gentleman's  name,  sir,"  the  manager  politely  told 
me,  "  we  should  be  very  glad  to  inform  you  whether 


THE  COLLAR  AND  TIE  123 

or  not  the  gentleman  is  on  our  books,  and  perhaps 
supply  you  with  his  address." 

This  I  considered  good-natured  of  the  manager, 
and  more  than  I  had  any  right  to  expect;  for  the 
torn  tie  and  my  possession  of  it  evidently  made 
him  curious,  and  yet  I  neither  told  how  I  came 
by  it,  nor  why  I  was  so  anxious  to  find  its  owner; 
and  in  addition  I  did  not  trade  there  myself,  so  I 
think  it  must  have  been  the  day  which  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  his  unusual  attitude. 

It  was  not  long  after  this,  however,  that  I  first 
picked  up  the  trail  of  the  laundry  I  was  looking  for. 
I  had  got  well  up-town,  and  the  distances  be- 
tween the  stops  were  growing  shorter  and  shorter, 
when  I  found  a  man  to  whom  my  collar  and  its 
mark  of  M.  48  meant  something. 

"  That  wasn't  done  here,"  he  said,  "  but  I  can 
tell  you  where  it  was  done.  I  happen  to  know,  for 
I  was  once  foreman  in  the  place.  You  go  to 
Slater's,  on  Park  Avenue,  between  Seventy-fifth  and 
Seventy-sixth  Streets,  and  they  will  tell  you  whom 
that  collar  belongs  to  in  two  jiffies." 

"  Speed  her  up,"  I  said  to  my  driver.  And  al- 
though it  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  going  more 
slowly  than  before,  yet  I  think  he  must  really  have 
been  hurrying;  for  we  were  stopped  at  Sixty-eighth 
Street  by  a  traffic  policeman,  who  lectured  him  long 
and  with  impassioned  fervor,  and  told  us  the  only 
reasons  why  we  were  not  arrested  was  that  he 


424     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

had  never  seen  my  driver  before,  and  that  for  the 
moment  he  couldn't  be  spared  from  his  beat. 
Through  it  all  I  fidgeted  like  a  man  going  to  catch 
an  ocean  steamer;  for,  now  that  this  part  of  my 
search  was  so  nearly  at  an  end,  I  became  suddenly 
impatient  and  filled  with  a  new  anxiety.  Slater, 
I  thought,  might  be  going  out  at  any  moment  and 
we  would  not  find  him.  He  might  be  even  going 
into  the  country,  so  that  I  could  not  see  him  that 
day;  and  perhaps  no  one  else  in  the  establishment 
would  have  the  information  I  wanted,  or  having 
it  would  dare  to  give  it  in  the  proprietor's  ab- 
sence. 

With  a  sudden  twist  the  taxicab  drew  up  before 
the  number  I  sought.  But  evidently  there  had  been 
some  mistake,  for  the  place  was  a  confectioner's 
shop. 

"  Can  you  tell  me,"  I  asked  the  cashier,  with  an 
abruptness  that  must  have  surprised  her,  "  the 
address  of  Slater's  laundry?  I  was  told  it  was  on 
this  block." 

She  made  change  for  a  customer  before  reply- 
ing. 

"It  used  to  be  right  here,"  she  said,  "but  he 
went  out  of  business  a  month  ago.  There  ain't 
any  Slater's  laundry." 


XIII 

THE   RENDEZVOUS 

IT  was  a  possibility  that  had  never  occurred  to 
me,  and  came  to  me  much  as  if  I  had  stretched 
out  my  hand  for  some  tangible  object  of  which  I 
was  perfectly  certain  and  found  only  the  mockery 
of  illusive  shadows.  "Gone  out  of  business!" 
The  thing  seemed  incredible. 

"Do  you  actually  mean  that?"  I  asked  after  a 
moment,  "  or  hasn't  he  just  moved  to  some  other 
place?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  cashier.  "Of  course 
I  never  saw  him  myself.  I  only  came  in  here  from 
our  down-town  branch  after  the  place  was  in  work- 
ing order.  But  what  they  told  me  was  that  he  had 
gone  out  of  business." 

"  Well,  what's  his  home  address?  "  I  asked. 

"  You've  got  me."  All  this  in  asides  as  she  me- 
chanically made  change  for  an  intermittent  stream 
of  customers. 

"  But  he  must  get  letters  here  that  you  have  to 
redirect.  Where  do  you  send  them?" 

"  No,  he  doesn't.  They  never  get  this  far.  All 
the  redirecting  is  done  in  the  post-office,  I  guess. 

125 


126     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Most  firms  send  down  a  rubber  stamp  with  their 
new  address  on  when  they  move,  you  know.  It 
saves  time,  and  besides,  it's  safer." 

"  I  suppose  I  could  get  his  address  from  there," 
I  said,  rather  hopelessly. 

The  cashier  was  evidently  a  little  bored.  "  No, 
you  couldn't,  Mister,"  she  said,  looking  with  ab- 
sent satisfaction  at  her  finger-nails ;  "  the  post- 
office  never  gives  out  an  address.  But  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  could  do.  You  could  just  send  your  bill  in 
to  this  address,  and  the  post-office  will  see  that  it 
reaches  him  somehow." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said ;  "  I  suppose  that  will  have 
to  do." 

As  far  as  I  could  see,  that  was  the  only  course 
left  to  me  at  the  moment;  so  I  had  my  taxi  take 
me  back  to  the  Hotel  Gloria,  and  there  I  wrote 
Mr.  Slater  a  letter  asking  if  he  could  make  an  ap- 
pointment to  see  me  on  a  matter  of  the  greatest, 
importance.  This  once  posted,  I  wras  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  next.  I  knew  I  could  not  get  an  an- 
swer before  twenty-four  hours,  and  that  there  was 
a  great  possibility  that  I  should  not  even  get  an 
answer  then.  In  the  meantime  I  felt  every  fleet- 
ing second  precious  and  inactivity  an  unendurable 
torture.  I  had  inquired  the  evening  before,  and 
this  morning,  and  when  I  had  come  in,  for  any 
message  from  Nancy,  and  had  met  expected  disap- 
pointment. To  hear  from  her  here  meant,  I  knew, 


THE  RENDEZVOUS  127 

that  she  had  got  home  again,  the  one  stray  chance 
in  a  million;  yet,  half  unconsciously,  I  hoped 
for  it.  And  every  "  nothing  for  you,  Mr.  Ells- 
worth "of  the  hotel  clerk's  was  fresh  disappoint- 
ment. Now,  as  I  paced  my  little  bedroom,  I 
racked  my  brains  for  some  further  activity  to  fill 
the  day,  for  surely,  it  seemed  to  me,  there  must 
be  many  ways  of  finding  Nancy  if  I  could  only 
think  of  them.  Yet  I  had  but  two  clues,  as  far 
as  I  could  see:  one,  my  rather  uncertain  knowl- 
edge of  the  appearance  of  Nancy's  escort,  and  the 
other  the  collar  and  tie  in  my  pocket.  I  could 
think  of  nowhere  that  I  might  inquire  in  a  place 
as  large  as  New  York  City  for  these  people  I 
sought.  To  be  sure,  I  might  advertise  for  them, 
but  such  an  advertisement  would  be  just  as  apt 
to  fall  under  the  notice  of  the  people  who  had 
taken  her  as  under  that  of  some  other  person  who 
might  chance  to  be  able  to  direct  me  to  them ;  and 
above  all  things  I  did  not  wish  to  frighten  Nancy's 
abductors,  nor  to  serve  any  such  open  challenge 
upon  them.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  at  least 
there  could  be  no  harm  in  advertising  for  the 
whereabouts  of  the  illusive  Mr.  Slater,  and  that 
there  was  still  time  to  get  such  an  advertisement 
into  the  late  afternoon  papers.  So  for  an  hour  I 
went  from  newspaper  office  to  newspaper  office, 
arranging  for  the  insertion  of  this  journalistic 
arrow  I  was  shooting  into  the  air. 


128     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Information  is  desired  as  to  the  present  where- 
abouts of  Oscar  Slater,  late  of  6—  Park  Avenue. 
Address  Mr.  Tyler,  Hotel  Gloria." 

I  also  arranged  that  my  advertisement  should  ap- 
pear in  three  morning  editions.  At  the  Gloria  they 
had  known  me  for  some  time,  and  the  desk  clerk 
readily  agreed  to  my  innocent  subterfuge  of  "  Mr. 
Tyler." 

I  was  at  dinner  when  the  first  and  only  answer 
came.  The  desk  clerk  brought  it  in  to  my  table 
himself. 

"  How  did  this  come  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  By  messenger,"  he  told  me.  "  I  meant  to  keep 
the  kid  so  that  you  could  question  him,  but  as  soon 
as  I  had  receipted  for  it,  and  turned  my  back  a 
moment  to  get  some  one  his  room  key,  the  little 
imp  slipped  out.  I  am  sorry  I  was  so  careless." 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,"  I  said,  and  tore  open 
the  envelope.  The  note  inside  was  type-written 
and  on  a  single,  unfolded  sheet  of  paper.  "  If  Mr. 
Tyler  will  come  this  evening,"  it  read,  "  to  the 
saloon  on  the  northwest  corner  of  Seventh  Avenue 
and  Fifth  Street,  and  carry  a  book  under  his  arm 
for  identification,  he  will  meet  some  one  who  will 
tell  him,  for  a  consideration,  the  present  where- 
abouts of  Oscar  Slater."  There  was  no  signature. 
"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  I  asked,  as  I 
passed  it  to  the  hotel  clerk. 

He  glanced  it  over  and  laughed.     "  I  think,"  he 


THE  RENDEZVOUS  129 

said,  "  that  it  is  a  palpable  fake.  It's  from  some 
crook  who  probably  makes  his  living  by  answering 
just  such  advertisements  as  yours.  He  is  at  the 
other  end  of  this  thing  and,  without  the  slightest 
information,  is  going  to  take  a  flyer  at  trimming 
you.  Who  is  this  Slater,  anyhow?  There  isn't 
anything  mysterious  about  him,  is  there  ?  " 

"Mysterious?  No,"  I  said.  "Slater  is  a  man 
who  till  six  weeks  ago  kept  a  laundry  on  Park 
Avenue,  and,  as  I  couldn't  find  him  there,  I  ad- 
vertised for  him;  but  there  is  nothing  mysterious 
about  him  or  his  disappearance,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"  Well,"  said  the  clerk,  "  that  about  settles  it. 
This  Johnny  who  wrote  the  note  evidently  thinks 
that  there  is  something  mysterious,  and  has  an- 
swered in  kind;  which  proves  that  in  the  first  place 
he  doesn't  know  anything  about  it,  and  in  the  sec- 
ond place  that  he  is  a  crook.  So  that  lets  him  out." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  I  replied ;  "  I  believe  I'll  go." 

"  Well,  if  you're  only  looking  to  get  your  throat 
cut,"  the  clerk  laughed,  "go  right  along;  don't  let 
me  stop  you.  But  as  for  little  Rufus,  the  brass 
horses  of  Xerxes  couldn't  drag  me  down  there. 
Still,  I'll  lend  you  a  gun  if  you  must  go." 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  don't  want  a  gun.  But  you 
can  lend  me  a  book  if  you  want  to." 

"Better  take  one,"  the  clerk  protested.  But  as 
I  shook  my  head,  I  saw  him  glance  down,  half  un- 
consciously, at  my  gloved  hands. 


i3o     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"That's  it,"  I  said;  "I  think  I  can  take  care  of 
myself." 

The  clerk  flushed  uncomfortably.  "  I  suppose 
you  can,"  he  said;  "  come  on  out,  and  I'll  give  you 
the  book." 

So  it  was  with  a  copy  of  the  American  Hotel 
Directory  under  my  arm  that  I  started  out  for 
Seventh  Avenue. 

As  I  half  expected,  my  rendezvous  was  a  dirty 
one.  Only  three  men  were  in  the  place  as  I  came 
in,  and  I  sank  down  gingerly  into  a  sprung  chair, 
by  a  little,  grimy,  wet-topped  table.  At  the  creak 
of  my  chair  the  bartender  turned  from  rummaging 
a  shelf  behind  the  bar  and  brought  his  small,  watery 
eyes  to  bear  upon  me.  He  was  an  unpleasant  bar- 
tender, who  evidently  drank  much  of  the  liquor 
he  dispensed,  and  whose  great  and  bulbous  nose 
was  like  some  poisonous  fire,  which  had  broken  out 
in  the  lurid  smolder  of  the  wrecked  face. 

"What's  yours?"  he  asked,  in  a  hoarse  whisper 
that  was  evidently  his  natural  voice. 

I  pondered.  If  it  were  true,  as  the  clerk  thought, 
that  I  was  brought  here  on  the  chance  that  I 
might  be  worth  the  plucking,  it  behoved  me  to  go 
warily.  Even  this  dreary  wreck  with  a  drop  or 
two  of  chloral  could  make  the  strength  that  I  relied 
upon  useless. 

"  I'll  take  a  small  bottle  of  claret,  if  you  have 
it,"  I  replied  at  length.  Wine  has  the  advantage 


This  was  the  Reverend  Mr.  Stevens 


THE  RENDEZVOUS  131 

of  coming  sealed;  whisky  or  beer  in  the  open  glass 
may  be  drugged  behind  the  bar. 

"  Sure,  we  got  it,"  whispered  the  bartender;  and, 
indeed,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  the  claret  amazingly 
good. 

Thus  far,  save  for  the  bartender,  no  one  had 
taken  the  slightest  notice  of  either  my  entrance 
or  my  order.  The  three  men  at  the  bar  stood  lean- 
ing over  their  drinks  with  their  backs  toward  me. 
Now,  as  I  set  down  my  glass,  one  of  them  turned 
and  glanced  at  me  hastily.  He  found  my  eyes 
upon  him,  and  his  glance  only  flickered  over  me 
for  a  second.  Then  again  he  turned  his  back 
upon  me,  with  his  head  bent  low  and  his  shoulders 
hunched  about  his  ears.  I  thought  I  heard  a 
muttered  word  or  so,  then,  still  without  turning 
his  face  toward  me,  he  left  the  other  two,  and  half 
slunk,  half  slouched  out  of  the  bar.  Whether  or 
not  he  had  recognized  me  I  could  not  tell,  but  I  had 
known  him  on  the  instant.  There  could  not  be  the 
least  doubt  about  it.  The  washed-out,  pimply  face, 
the  wavering  blue  eyes,  and  the  long  neck  with  its 
disproportionate,  gulping  Adam's  apple  had  been 
too  vividly  impressed  upon  my  memory  ever  in 
life  to  be  forgotten.  What  he  did  here,  I  did  not 
know;  whether  chance  or  design  had  brought  him. 
But  this  was  the  Reverend  Mr.  Stevens,  the  man 
whom  Ephraim  Bond  had  employed  to  sanctify  my 
marriage  with  Nancy. 


XIV 

MISFORTUNE 

NATURALLY,  my  first  impulse  was  to  follow 
him.  There  were  many  things  that  I  should 
have  liked  to  ask  him,  many  questions  he  might 
have  answered,  willingly  or  perhaps  for  money, 
or,  failing  that,  to  save  his  stringy  neck.  That  he 
was  in  reality  an  ordained  minister,  with  the  right 
to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony,  I  had  doubted 
from  the  very  first.  Nevertheless,  there  was 
always  the  bare  possibility  that  he  was  some  rene- 
gade of  the  cloth,  fallen  from  what  small  grace 
he  might  once  have  possessed,  yet  still  in  his  de- 
basement retaining  the  power  of  his  ordination,  to 
misuse  in  any  shady  transaction  to  which  fear  or 
cupidity  might  lead  him.  And  if  he  was  a  minis- 
ter, the  probability  was  that  our  marriage  was 
legal,  that  Nancy  was  really  mine,  and  the  power 
of  law  my  right  and  able  ally.  Above  all  things 
I  should  have  liked  to  know  whether  I  could  claim 
her  openly,  as  was  my  right,  or  must  take  her 
back,  as  she  had  been  taken  from  me,  by  sheer  force 
and  by  the  right  of  love  alone. 

And  yet  I  did  not   follow  him.     There  was  a 
132 


MISFORTUNE  133 

chance  —  a  bare  chance  —  that  he  had  not  recog- 
nized me,  and  that  his  presence  in  this  low  dive  was 
simply  a  fortuitous  happening  on  his  weak  and 
shameful  road.  If  I  followed  him  and  questioned 
him,  he  must  of  course  recognize  me,  and,  finding 
me  in  New  York  instead  of  Marbury,  might  guess 
Nancy's  disappearance,  or,  at  any  rate,  through 
my  presence,  have  a  secret  worth  the  selling.  It 
was  better,  I  thought,  to  chance  it,  and  if  he  had 
recognized  me, —  well,  the  harm  was  done;  and 
Ephraim  Bond  or  the  man  in  the  brown  derby,  or 
perhaps  both  of  them,  could  take  what  profit  they 
might  from  my  presence  in  New  York. 

As  I  sat  waiting  for  my  anonymous  correspond- 
ent, it  seemed  to  me  more  and  more  probable  that 
this  meeting  had  not  been  a  chance  one;  as  time 
passed  and  my  correspondent  did  not  appear,  the 
thought  took  on  a  certainty.  But  by  whom,  I  won- 
dered, had  he  been  employed,  if  he  had  been  em- 
ployed at  all.  I  had  met  him  as  the  creature  of 
Ephraim  Bond,  but  if  that  tricky  old  gentleman 
had  sent  him  here,  then  Bond  himself  must  have 
been  party  to  Nancy's  disappearance,  which  was 
sheer  confusion,  for  Stevens  had  not  followed  me 
into  the  bar,  but  had  been  there  upon  my  arrival; 
which  meant  either  that  he  was  there  by  chance, 
or  could  only  mean  that  my  advertisement  for 
Oscar  Slater  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  man 
in  the  brown  derby,  who,  remembering  the  clues 


i34     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

that  he  had  left  in  mine,  had  thought  of  this  pos- 
sibility in  my  search,  and,  on  the  chance,  had  ar- 
ranged this  pretended  meeting.  The  place  and  the 
incongruous  mystery  of  it  all  lent  color  to  the  idea, 
for  either  my  mere  appearance  had  been  all  that 
my  correspondent  desired,  or  something  had  gone 
wrong  with  his  plans,  for,  although  I  waited  for  an 
hour,  no  one  spoke  to  me.  Occasionally  the  doors 
would  swing,  and  some  bleary  derelict  from  the 
world  without  would  stumble  into  the  bar,  to  lounge 
over  a  drink  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  stumble 
stupidly  out  again.  From  time  to  time  the  scarlet- 
faced  bartender  would  refill  their  glasses  with  beer, 
but  in  all  the  full  hour  I  waited,  the  men  who  had 
been  Stevens'  drinking  companions  scarcely  shifted 
their  positions,  nor  did  either  of  them  turn  so  that 
I  could  see  his  face.  They  were  men,  I  noticed,  of 
much  the  same  pattern;  young  men,  I  thought, 
whose  nondescript  old  clothes  covered  bodies  that 
drink  had  not  yet  begun  to  weaken. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  I  got  up  in  disgust.  I 
had  had  small  hopes  of  learning  anything  really 
valuable,  and  yet  I  was  disappointed  and  vaguely 
troubled;  for  not  only  had  I  learned  absolutely 
nothing,  but  there  was  a  very  fair  chance  that 
I  had  been  watched,  or  at  least  recognized,  and  that 
the  people  who  had  taken  Nancy  away  from  me 
would  know  before  morning  what  methods  I  was 
taking  to  find  her.  I  paused  at  the  door  to  give 


MISFORTUNE  135 

one  last  glance  about  the  grimy  little  place.  I 
had  pushed  back  my  chair  noisily,  yet  no  one  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  watch  my  leave-taking.  The 
bartender  was  mopping  spilled  beer  with  a  dirty 
rag.  Some  nondescript  was  leaning  against  the 
bar's  farther  end;  and  the  two  men  who  had  been 
there  since  my  coming  still  hunched  together  like 
two  dreary  scarecrows.  I  let  the  door  swing  be- 
hind me,  and  took  a  long  thankful  breath  of  the 
clean  night  air.  Even  Seventh  Avenue  seemed 
fresh  and  sweetly  fragrant  after  the  stale  noisome- 
ness  that  I  had  left  behind;  so  that  I  walked  along 
filling  my  lungs  in  grateful  relief,  with  the  thankful 
anticipation  of  the  hot  bath  awaiting  me. 

What  impulse  it  was  that  made  me  turn  around 
I  can  not  say.  We  all  of  us,  I  suppose,  retain  a 
few  primal  creature  instincts.  Man  has  been  a 
hunter  for  too  few  centuries  to  forget  the  ages 
when  he  was  hunted.  As  I  turned,  half  the  empty 
block  back  I  saw  two  men  swerve  into  the  shadow 
of  a  doorway.  At  least  it  seemed  to  me  that  my 
turning  had  so  made  them  swerve.  And  although 
I  had  got  but  a  glimpse  of  them,  and  that  a 
none  too  well-lighted  half  block  away,  yet  I  thought 
I  recognized  them  as  the  comrades  of  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Stevens.  If  I  was  being  followed  I  de- 
termined that  the  chase  should  not  be  an  easy  one. 
I  turned  briskly  at  the  first  corner  in  the  direction 
of  Sixth  Avenue,  and  when  I  had  gone  a  little  way, 


136     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

stepped,  myself,  into  a  convenient  shadow.  As  I 
half  expected,  my  two  men  turned  the  corner  after 
me,  but  evidently  they  were  not  to  be  fooled  into 
passing  me.  The  street,  as  far  as  they  could  see,  was 
empty;  but  they  knew  that  I  could  not  have  gone 
far,  and  they  stood  together  on  the  corner  like  two 
drunken  companions  saying  an  interminable  and 
garrulous  good  night.  I  suppose  that  I  should  have 
gone  back  to  them;  instead,  I  stole  along  as  far  as 
the  shadow  shielded  me,  and  then,  taking  to  my 
heels,  ran  at  top  speed  for  Sixth  Avenue. 

As  I  turned  into  Sixth  Avenue  I  heard  the 
crescendo  roar  of  the  up-town  elevated  train  be- 
hind me.  It  was  faint  and  still  in  the  distance,  but 
I  made  the  best  of  my  speed  for  the  intervening 
block,  and  took  the  stairs  three  at  a  time.  Even 
as  I  bought  my  ticket,  the  train  hammered  into  the 
station.  It  was  the  work  of  a  second,  however, 
to  drop  the  ticket  in  the  box  and  ensconce  myself 
in  the  train.  All  trains,  I  find,  are  perverse;  but 
elevated  trains  are  perversity  personified.  If  you 
approach  them  in  a  leisurely  manner,  they  slam  their 
gates  in  your  face;  if  you  are  in  a  hurry,  they 
dawdle,  gaping  for  a  tardy  arrival.  As  soon  as  I 
had  taken  my  seat,  I  peered  out  upon  the  platform. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  train  would  never  start.  My 
two  men  came  rushing  up  the  stairs  and,  I  think, 
omitted  the  formality  of  either  purchasing  or  de- 
positing tickets.  They  rushed  to  the  gate  of  my. 


MISFORTUNE  137 

car,  but,  I  suppose,  must  have  found  it  closed,  for 
they  turned  and  I  lost  sight  of  them  running  to  the 
rear  of  the  train.  Whether  they  got  on  or  not  I 
could  not  at  the  moment  be  sure.  But  I  was  not 
to  be  left  long  in  doubt,  for,  as  my  train  skirted 
the  park  and  drew  into  Fifty-ninth  Street,  a  sodden 
face  peered  in  at  the  rear  door  of  the  car  for  a 
moment,  and  wolfish  eyes  meeting  mine,  was  with- 
drawn as  suddenly  as  it  came.  I  had  at  first  in- 
tended going  far  up-town  and  doubling  back  by 
means  of  the  subway;  now,  on  a  sudden  impulse, 
as  the  brakes  went  on  and  we  shuddered  to  a  stand- 
still, I  got  up  quickly  and  made  for  the  forward 
door,  squeezing  through  the  partly-opened  gate, 
half  running,  half  falling,  down  the  long  flight  of 
stairs. 

What  I  should  have  done,  of  course,  was  to 
turn  in  at  the  first  decently  lighted  place  I  came 
to.  It  was  through  sheer  stupidity  that  I  did  not; 
but  it  was  not  until  the  next  day  that  I  realized 
that  already  my  address  was  known,  that  my  very 
keeping  of  the  rendezvous  was  an  acknowledgment 
that  I  was  "Mr.  Tyler"  of  the  Hotel  Gloria. 
Now,  in  the  excitement  of  flight  and  pursuit,  I 
foolishly  overlooked  this  obvious  conclusion.  I 
was  anxious  not  to  be  followed  home,  and  in- 
nocently supposed  that  I  was  making  this  a  contest 
of  speed  and  wits;  so,  like  a  silly  hunted  animal, 
I  ran  east  through  Fifty-ninth  Street,  dodging  in 


138     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

and  out  of  the  groups  of  belated  negroes,  who  make 
this  block  unpleasant  at  this  hour,  and  cutting 
across  Columbus  Circle,  hesitated  for  a  moment 
at  the  subway  entrance,  then  plunged  fatuously 
into  Central  Park.  The  park  seemed  to  me  at  the 
moment  the  ideal  labyrinth  in  which  to  lose  my 
pursuers.  Its  lights  were  few  and  scattered,  and 
at  frequent  intervals  winding  path  cut  winding 
path,  and  clumps  of  new-leaved  shrubbery  made 
unexpected  shadowy  hiding-places.  It  was  this 
very  intricate  quality  of  the  park's  arrangement  that 
made  my  choice  of  it  a  mistake.  For  after  doub- 
ling two  or  three  times,  I  stopped  to  listen  and  made 
sure  that  I  had  shaken  off  and  distanced  my  pur- 
suers. 

A  ghostly  policeman  passed  me,  and  I  nodded  to 
him  gaily,  for  I  was  childishly  pleased  with  myself; 
so  pleased  that  I  found  myself  whistling  softly  as 
I  turned  vaguely  east  in  what  I  supposed  to  be  the 
direction  of  Fifth  Avenue.  I  must  have  been 
walking  four  or  five  minutes  before  my  men  stepped 
suddenly  out  in  front  of  me. 

For  a  second  all  three  of  us  stood  still,  peering 
in  the  vague  light  for  further  certainty;  then,  as  if 
at  some  preconcerted  signal,  they  sprang  at  me. 
Instinctively  I  dodged  a  little  to  one  side,  as  some- 
thing long  and  heavy  grazed  my  right  ear  and 
thudded  in  crushing  silence  on  to  my  shoulder.  The 
other  man  had  dived  and  taken  me  about  the  knees. 


MISFORTUNE  139 

"  I  got  him,  Jim,"  he  grunted.     "  Soak  him." 

In  the  meantime,  I  had  struck  the  man  with  the 
sand-bag  full  in  the  chin  with  my  left  hand,  and,  as 
he  staggered,  I  caught  him  roughly  by  the  coat,  and 
still  with  my  left  hand,  for  my  right  arm  seemed 
numb  and  powerless,  I  jerked  him  forward  so  that 
he  toppled  toward  me,  and  the  three  of  us  went 
down  in  a  heap.  I  think,  even  as  we  fell,  I  felt 
the  exultant  joy  of  righting.  Then  I  squirmed  and 
kicked  out  viciously,  for  the  man  who  still  held 
my  knees  had  suddenly  fastened  his  teeth  in  my 
useless  wrist.  With  the  animal  pain  of  it,  and  the 
flashing  recognition  of  the  unfairness  and  murder- 
ous intent  of  the  fight,  my  unused,  unrecognized 
strength  swept  over  me  like  a  hot  wave.  I  found 
myself  suddenly  on  my  feet,  holding  my  lesser  as- 
sailant by  the  collar  and  using  his  head  as  a  sort 
of  unwieldy  club  to  batter  consciousness  out  of  the 
man  upon  the  sidewalk.  My  jerking  him  viciously 
back  for  a  third  blow  was  the  last  thing  I  remember, 
for,  like  a  suddenly  extinguished  light,  the  world 
went  utterly  out  of  existence.  It  must  have  been 
some  time  before  it  came  reelingly  before  my  eyes 
again. 

"  Lave  go  my  arrm ;  lave  it  go,  ye  divil.  Do  ye 
want  to  break  it?  " 

I  relaxed  an  unconscious  grasp  and  closed  my 
eyes  for  a  sickening  moment. 

"Who  are  you?"  I  whispered  at  length. 


140     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Who  ye  are  has  got  more  to  do  with  it,"  the 
voice  answered. 

I  tried  opening  my  eyes  again,  and  in  the  stag- 
gering darkness  saw  the  looming  outline  of  a  police- 
man's helmet. 

"  Where  are  they,  officer  ?  "  I  asked. 

The  policeman  dragged  me  up  into  a  sitting  pos- 
ture. 

"  There,"  he  said.  "  I've  been  holding  your  head 
in  my  lap  for  the  last  five  minutes,  and  'tis  a  silly 
looking  sight  the  two  of  us  was.  Are  ye  able  to 
sit  ?  What  hit  ye  ?  Were  ye  attackted  ?  " 

"  I  was,"  I  answered.     "  Didn't  you  see  them?  " 

"  Not  a  sovvl.  But  I  near  broke  me  neck  over 
ye.  It's  a  fearsome  thing  to  step  on  a  man's  stom- 
ach in  the  dark  and  get  never  a  grunt  out  of  him. 
Do  ye  want  to  make  a  complaint  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said  vaguely,  "  I  believe  I'll  go  home. 
I'm  not  feeling  very  well."  I  laughed  abruptly, 
and  stopped  at  the  foolish  sound  of  it. 

The  park  policeman  lent  me  a  steadying  arm  and 
took  me  as  far  as  the  gate,  protesting  kindly  that 
he  had  better  find  a  cab. 

"  No  wonder  ye  feel  sick,"  he  said,  "  with  a 
boomp  on  the  back  of  yer  head  like  the  dome  of 
a  synagogue.  Ye'd  better  run  up  to  the  hospital 
and  see  if  any  of  yer  skull  is  left,  for  if  ye've  been 
murdered,  ye  ought  to  make  a  complaint  whether 
ye  want  to  or  not." 


MISFORTUNE  141 

"  No,"  I  protested,  "  I'm  all  right,"  and  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  entrance  I  left  him. 

I  had  only  gone  about  a  block,  however,  before 
a  terrible  thought  burnt  for  a  moment  the  sick 
dizziness  from  my  mind.  I  stopped  under  a  light 
and  began  a  systematic  search  of  my  pockets. 
They  were  empty.  The  collar  and  tie  of  the  man 
in  the  brown  derby,  my  watch,  my  note-book,  and 
my  money  were  all  of  them  gone.  I  had  been 
stripped  absolutely  bare. 


XV 

THE  OLD  GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  CAFE 

IN  a  sort  of  daze  I  found  my  way,  as  best  I 
could,  to  the  Hotel  Gloria.  After  the  first  bril- 
liant shock  of  realization,  the  fog  of  confusion  had 
settled  down  again,  with  this  additional  whirling 
eddy  of  a  new  misfortune.  I  stumbled  up  the  steps 
and  to  the  desk  in  the  main  office.  My  friend,  the 
clerk,  glanced  up  at  me  inquiringly,  and  whistled 
softly  in  sheer  amazement. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  well!  You  did  get  it,  didn't 
you?  What  on  earth  happened?  " 

"  I  was  sand-bagged,  I  think,"  I  answered. 
"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  in  the  morning.  I'm  too 
dizzy  to  get  it  straight  now." 

This  particular  clerk  of  the  Hotel  Gloria  had 
known  me,  as  I  have  said,  for  several  years,  and 
I  liked  him  because  he  was  one  of  the  few  people 
on  earth  to  whom  my  misfortune  had  never  seemed 
to  make  any  particular  difference.  I  should  hardly 
have  called  him  a  friend;  nevertheless,  there  had 
always  been  in  his  brisk  professional  cordiality  a 
strain  of  something  more  intimately  human.  In 
his  present  concern  he  forgot  his  professional  role 

142 


OLD  GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  CAFE      143 

altogether,  and  came  from  behind  the  office  en- 
closure with  an  actual  anxiety  that  struck  my  notice 
and  pleased  me  in  spite  of  my  mental  chaos.  Very 
gently  he  took  off  my  crushed  hat  and  gave  atten- 
tion to  my  injury. 

"  Lord,  man,"  he  said ;  "  you  ought  to  have  a 
doctor." 

I  shook  my  head  stupidly.  "  No,  I  oughtn't,"  I 
said.  "  I  couldn't  possibly  pay  one.  They  took 
every  cent  I  had.  I  don't  even  know  how  I'll  pay 
my  bill  here." 

"  Well,  don't  bother  about  that  now,"  the  clerk 
said.  "  The  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  get  to  bed," 
and  he  sent  in  a  call  for  the  hotel  physician. 

Between  them  they  made  me  comparatively  com- 
fortable. The  doctor  gave  me  a  sedative  and  told 
me  to  go  to  sleep;  but  it  was  some  hours  before  I 
was  able  to  do  so.  The  pulsing  torment  in  my 
brain  racked  me;  the  situation  I  must  face  on  the 
morrow  filled  me  with  a  feverish  apprehension. 
But  in  spite  of  it,  and  in  spite  of  the  pain,  once 
asleep,  I  slept  well ;  and  awoke  about  ten  o'clock  to 
find  myself  much  better. 

"  Quite  marvelous,  my  dear  sir,"  the  doctor  said ; 
"  quite  marvelous.  But  your  physique  is  some- 
thing very  unusual,  and  I  should  say  that  you  had 
led  a  pretty  decent  life.  It  all  counts.  It  all 
counts." 

But,  although  the  pain  had  mostly  disappeared, 


i44     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

I  was  still  very  much  troubled.  I  was  here,  I  real- 
ized, without  a  friend  in  the  city,  with  a  hotel  bill 
as  yet  unpaid,  and  not  a  cent  in  the  world  that  I 
could  immediately  lay  my  hands  on.  The  fight  be- 
fore me  called  to  me  imperatively,  and  my  enemies 
had  stripped  me  of  the  very  sinews  of  war. 

When  I  had  finished  my  breakfast,  the  hotel  clerk 
came  and  sat  down  beside  my  bed. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you're  looking  pretty  fit." 

"Fit  enough,"  I  admitted  gloomily,  "and,  for 
that  matter,  I  am  going  to  get  up  in  a  few  minutes, 
doctor  or  no  doctor.  But  what  I'm  going  to  do 
next  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  Is  it  quite  clear 
to  you  that  I  can't  even  pay  my  hotel  bill,  and  that 
1  haven't  enough  baggage  to  be  worth  seizing?  " 

The  clerk  laughed.  "  I  shouldn't  worry  about 
that  if  I  were  you,"  he  said.  "  See  here,  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, we  know  you  pretty  well  by  this  time. 
We'll  let  the  bill  go  for  a  while,  and  you  can  stay 
here  until  you  can  get  in  touch  with  friends.  In 
the  meantime  I  guess  we  can  supply  you  with  what 
money  you  need." 

I  have  heard  many  people  complain  that  New 
York  is  a  cold  and  soulless  place,  where  tradesman 
and  Boniface  have  learned  by  such  long  and  bitter 
experience  the  guile  of  a  scheming  world,  that  no 
need,  however  just,  can  turn  them  from  their  policy 
of  suspicion.  Yet  here  was  a  young  man,  an  em- 
ployee—  to  be  sure  a  trusted  one  —  who  was  of- 


OLD  GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  CAFE   145 

fering  me,  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  a  trust  and 
assistance  for  which  he  himself  must  pay,  if  by  any 
chance  he  should  have  overestimated  my  honesty  or 
ultimate  solvency. 

"  I'm  sure  I  thank  you  very  much,"  I  said,  rather 
weakly,  for  in  my  shaken  condition  I  found  it  hard 
to  hide  the  sudden  flood  of  gratitude  which  he 
would  have  found  embarrassing.  Still,  try  as  I 
would,  my  voice  was  a  little  unsteady,  and,  like  any 
normal  American,  he  became  immediately  ill  at 
ease. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  he  said  bruskly,  and  re- 
treated in  confusion. 

My  emotions  as  I  dressed  were  strangely  mixed. 
Within  a  short  week  my  numb,  uneventful  life  had 
been  turned  topsy-turvy,  and  its  gray  fabric  had 
suddenly  been  strewn  with  a  bewildering  tangle  of 
black  and  gold ;  hope  and  love,  loss  and  fear  played 
havoc  with  its  dreary  serenity;  and  three  times 
within  the  last  few  days  chance  acquaintances  had 
spoken  to  me  in  kindness.  I  had  never  had  very 
much  money,  now  at  a  stroke  I  was  absolutely 
penniless.  It  seemed  to  my  still  aching  senses  as 
if  I  must  be  moving  in  a  dream  from  which  I  might 
at  any  moment  awake.  Yet  I  stepped  out  into  the 
city  with  no  very  definite  plan  and  with  a  few  bor- 
rowed dollars  in  my  pocket,  glowing  in  spite  of 
myself,  and  in  spite  of  my  new  misfortune,  with  the 
unconquered  kindliness  of  the  world.  Before  I  left 


146     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY  ; 

the  hotel  I  wrote  a  short  note  to  my  brother,  telling 
him  simply  that  I  had  been  waylaid  and  robbed, 
and  asking  him  to  loan  me  a  hundred  dollars  until 
I  could  find  some  way  of  repairing  my  fortunes. 
This  was,  I  recognized,  only  an  arrow  shot  into  the 
air,  for  my  brother  was  an  uncertain  person,  rarely 
in  funds,  or  in  the  same  place  for  any  length  of 
time;  but  at  the  moment  it  was  the  only  way  of 
getting  money  that  I  could  think  of,  and  without 
money  my  blind  search  for  Nancy  would  be  crippled 
also. 

I  walked  for  a  few  blocks  in  the  fresh  air,  try- 
ing as  best  I  could  to  make  some  definite  plan  of 
campaign.  Slater,  the  retired  laundryman,  might 
still  be  found,  but  by  what  means  I  could  not  at 
the  moment  devise,  unless,  perhaps,  I  were  to  make 
an  appeal  to  the  police.  Every  lost  day  was  an 
added  terror  to  me,  and  to  think  at  all  I  had  to 
put  from  my  mind  the  thought  of  Nancy's  possible 
circumstances,  of  the  many  ugly  chances  that  might 
befall  her.  Even  if  she  had  been  taken  back  to  her 
uncle's,  the  shock  of  returning  to  the  place  she  had 
feared  and  hated  for  so  long  might  work  her  in- 
calculable harm. 

Her  uncle's !  I  paused  abruptly  in  the  middle  of 
the  block.  Why  had  I  not  gone  there  at  the  very 
outset?  For  if  she  were  there  I  made  sure  they 
could  not  hide  her  from  me;  and  if  she  were  not, 
and  this  thing  had  been  done  without  the  knowl- 


OLD  GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  CAFE  147 

edge  of  Ephraim  Bond,  then,   for  all  I  knew,  he 
might  prove  an  eager  ally. 

I  turned,  and  making  my  way  back  to  Fifth 
Avenue,  took  a  bus  up-town,  determining  on  my  way 
that  the  moment  the  door  was  opened  I  would  slip 
past  the  servant  and  enter  the  house.  With  any 
sort  of  luck  the  door  should  be  opened  by  Jonas, 
and  Jonas,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  was  really  devoted 
to  Nancy;  so  that  I  might  question  him  exhaus- 
tively before  he  even  announced  me  to  Mr.  Bond. 
Just  what  method  I  would  take  with  Mr.  Bond 
himself  I  left  to  circumstance  and  our  meeting. 
But  I  made  up  my  mind  that  he  should  give  me  in- 
formation if  he  had  any,  and,  in  any  case,  what 
immediate  assistance  I  needed.  I  got  down  from 
my  bus  very  truculently  and  with  my  heart  beating 
wildly  at  the  possibility  that  my  search  might  need 
go  no  further,  that  perhaps  I  was  to  find.  Nancy 
again  in  the  place  that  I  first  found  her.  I  had 
rung  the  bell  for  the  third  time  in  my  impatience 
before  I  came  down  to  earth.  They  had  seen  me, 
I  thought,  and  would  not  answer.  Then,  with  a 
weary  certainty,  I  went  down  the  steps  and  looked 
up  over  the  house.  The  sign  of  an  Electric  Pro- 
tective Company  hung  in  front  of  the  drawn  shade 
of  the  lower  window,  as  indication  to  all  the  world 
— •  and  more  particularly  the  underworld  —  that 
the  house  was  closed  and  empty  and  —  wired 
against  intrusion. 


I48     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

That  I  might  leave  no  stone  unturned,  rather  than 
through  any  hope  of  success,  I  looked  up  the  Lex- 
ington Avenue  stable,  only  to  find  it  locked  as  I  had 
expected.  It  was  like  beating  against  a  stone  wall. 
And  like  a  man  suddenly  thrown  into  a  dungeon  and 
rinding  suddenly  that  there  is  no  way  of  escape,  for 
a  little  while,  I  think,  I  went  mad.  Nancy  was 
somewhere,  probably  not  far  away,  and  for  all  my 
strength  and  for  all  my  love,  I  could  not  find  her. 
The  fact  dinned  itself  through  my  consciousness 
as  I  blindly  paced  the  crowded  city  streets  and 
walked  unremembered  miles.  I  brought  up  again, 
at  last,  before  the  Lexington  Avenue  stable.  Like 
some  one  lost  in  the  woods,  I  had  probably  walked 
in  a  great  irregular  circle.  Now  it  was  late  after- 
noon, and  I  was  utterly  tired.  I  looked  about 
wearily  for  a  place  where  I  might  rest  and,  if  possi- 
ble, bring  myself  to  some  condition  of  reason. 

Across  the  street  from  the  stable,  and  sand- 
wiched in  between  a  stranded  dwelling  and  a  to- 
bacco shop,  was  a  little  lunch-room  dignified  by  the 
name  of  the  "  Golden  Cafe."  The  place  as  I  en- 
tered it  was  almost  empty,  and  I  took  a  table  in  a 
corner  by  myself.  The  red-haired,  indifferent  boy 
in  charge  brought  me  black  coffee.  Two  women 
were  chatting  over  tea  by  the  window,  and  I  lin- 
gered impatiently  over  my  coffee,  waiting  for  them 
to  leave;  for  I  wanted  to  have  the  proprietor  to 
myself.  They  were  an  unconscionable  time,  and  I 


OLD  GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  CAFE  149 

made  sure  that  other  patrons  would  drop  in;  but 
no  one  else  came,  and  at  last  the  women  departed, 
leaving  a  tip  just  large  enough  to  put  the  red-haired 
boy  into  a  bad  humor. 

"  Do  you  know,"  I  asked  him,  "  who  owns  that 
red-brick  stable  across  the  way?  " 

"  What  did  you  say  you  wanted  ?  "  he  replied, 
passing  me  and  speaking  across  the  counter  behind 
me. 

"  I  wanted  to  know,"  I  repeated,  "  who  owns 
that  stable  directly  opposite  ?  " 

"  Dunno,"  said  the  boy. 

He  spoke  as  if  he  had  paid  no  attention  to  my 
question,  so  that  I  turned  around  for  my  next  and 
launched  it  squarely  at  him.  "  Well,  have  you  ever 
heard  of  Ephraim  Bond  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Nope ;  want  any  more  coffee  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so,"  I  said,  and  turned  back  to  my 
table. 

The  boy  came  out  from  behind  his  counter,  and 
shuffled  past  me ;  and  I  looked  up  to  see  that  another 
customer  had  entered.  He  was  a  small  white- 
haired  man,  whose  pleasant  face,  with  its  widely- 
set,  attractive-looking  eyes,  seemed  perfectly  fa- 
miliar. When  he  had  given  his  order  he  looked 
down  the  room  at  me,  and  I  bowed,  for  I  was  cer- 
tain that  I  had  met  him  somewhere.  Indeed,  he 
might  have  been  some  old  friend  of  my  father's, 
aged  now  beyond  instant  recognition,  but  still  a  cer- 


150     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

tain  memory.  He  returned  my  bow  nervously,  and 
bent  over  his  food;  but  once  or  twice,  as  I  sipped 
my  second  cup  of  coffee,  I  found  his  mild  eyes 
studying  me.  I  had  forgotten  about  him,  however, 
and  the  idle  wonder  of  who  he  was,  when  he 
abruptly  slid  into  the  chair  opposite  me. 

"  Did  I  hear  you  ask,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  queer, 
quiet  little  voice,  "for  a  man  named  Ephraim 
Bond?" 


XVI 

WE   HOLD    CONFERENCE 

FOR  a  moment  I  was  too  surprised  to  answer 
him,  but  the  mild  blue  eyes  never  wavered 
from  mine.  The  lined,  old  face  presented  such  a 
gentle  courtesy  that  I  nodded  without  further 
thought. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  replied.  "  Do  you  know  him,  and 
can  you  tell  me  if  he  is  the  owner  of  that  stable 
opposite  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  smiled.  "  I'll  have  to  make 
you  a  Yankee  answer,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said.  "  Are 
you  a  friend  of  Ephraim  Bond's,  and  what  do  you 
want  of  him?" 

I  hesitated.  I  did  not  want  to  answer  questions, 
and,  even  if  I  answered  this,  I  hardly  knew  what 
reply  to  make  to  the  first  half  of  his  question.  "  I 
don't  suppose  I'm  exactly  a  friend,"  I  said  at  length, 
"  but  I'm  very  anxious  to  find  him.  I  have  been  to 
his  house  and  found  it  closed,  and  I  had  an  idea 
that  he  owned  that  stable  over  there." 

"  He  doesn't,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  And  the 
reply  seemed  by  its  very  abruptness  to  end  the  con- 
versation. Nevertheless,  I  sat  still  and  waited. 


I52     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

The  old  gentleman  had  dropped  his  eyes,  and 
seemed  to  be  centering  all  his  attention  on  a  little 
noteless  tune  he  was  drumming  with  long,  blunt 
fingers  on  the  marble  table-top.  Whenever  he  fin- 
ished a  particularly  difficult  run  he  would  glance  up 
at  me,  for  all  the  world  like  a  shy  little  boy,  and 
then  fall  again  to  his  drumming.  At  last  he  folded 
his  hands  in  front  of  him,  and  leaned  across  the 
table  over  them. 

"  Has  he  hurt  you  in  any  way  ?  "  he  asked. 

I  stared  at  him  in  amazement.  "  Why  do  you 
ask  that?  "  I  said.  "  Do  you  know  who  I  am?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  said  the  old  gentleman;  "  I  was 
only  wondering." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  he  has  hurt  me,  either,"  I 
replied ;  "  but  I  should  very  much  like  to  find  him. 
Do  you  know  where  he  is  at  present?  " 

The  old  gentleman  rapped  sharply  with  a  coin 
on  the  table-top.  "  Our  checks,  boy,  our  checks," 
he  said.  He  motioned  away  the  money  I  took 
from  my  pocket.  "  No,  no,"  he  said,  "  let  me  set- 
tle; it  will  save  time.  You  and  I  need  to  have  a 
long  talk  together,  and  this  is  no  place  for  it.  Will 
you  do  me  the  courtesy  of  visiting  my  room  ?  " 

"  Gladly,"  I  answered,  and  reached  for  my  hat. 

At  the  first  corner  I  started  unconsciously  to  turn 
west,  and  my  companion  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  east,  if  you  please.  East,  in 
fact  some  distance  east.  I  —  perhaps  I  should  ex- 


WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE  153 

plain  that  I  am  a  sociologist,  a  student,  you  under- 
stand, of  mankind  and  society.  There  is  nothing 
more  interesting  than  man's  relations  with  man, 
nothing  more  interesting  and  nothing  more  com- 
plex. It  is  pleasant,  I  assure  you,  to  be  in  close 
touch  with  humanity;  to  rub  elbows  with  one's  fel- 
low beings;  to  be  close  to  the  heart  of  hurly-burly 
human  existence.  I  have  no  patience,  sir,  with 
your  hermit,  your  solitary,  your  recluse.  God 
knows,  we're  most  of  us  enough  alone  in  a  crowd, 
without  disturbing  our  mental  balance  further  by 
withdrawal  from  it.  Men,  women  and  children, 
trouble,  joy  and  sorrow,  human  defeat  and  ulti- 
mate human  victory,  these  are  the  only  things  worth 
watching  in  the  world,  the  only  things  of  importance 
to  a  thinking  man.  Your  recluse  is  only  a  sort  of 
coward  who  dares  not  put  his  soul  to  the  acid  test 
of  life.  He  would  save  his  soul  and  loses  it;  he 
draws  away  from  others  to  find  the  full  develop- 
ment of  his  ego,  and  he  ends  by  turning  his  ego 
into  a  vague,  shadowy  thing,  as  soft  and  cloudy- 
outlined  as  a  sponge.  Think  what  he  misses ;  think 
what  he  misses.  Love  is  lost  to  him,  and  even  hate 
becomes  a  flabby  thing.  Man  is  an  emotional  ani- 
mal, contrived  and  equipped  for  the  great  adven- 
ture of  life,  and  if  he  refuses  to  enter  the  lists  he 
loses  its  very  essence  and  meaning.  Where  I  live, 
sir,  the  world  moves.  Personally  I  do  not  think 
that  the  *  annals  of  the  poor '  are  either  short  or 


i54     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

simple.  With  us  neither  the  duello  nor  marriage 
by  conquest  are  things  of  the  past.  Men  give  or 
strike  because  their  hearts  are  touched,  and  so  men 
have  through  all  the  ages.  The  city,  sir,  is  the 
very  cream  of  human  existence.  Here  life  cries 
out  to  you  on  every  corner.  That  is  what  appeals 
to  me,  sir;  here  even  an  old  man  may  throw  his 
cap  into  the  ring." 

We  had  been  walking  rapidly,  and,  as  we  walked, 
the  old  gentleman  beside  me  had  straightened  up, 
and  was  pouring  forth  his  torrential  eulogy  of  his 
chosen  fad  with  a  quite  unexpected  fire  and  rapidity ; 
and,  as  he  spoke,  my  wonder  grew  until  for  a  mo- 
ment I  almost  doubted  his  sanity.  But  although 
his  blue  eyes  had  lost  their  mildness  and  now 
sparkled  with  a  strange  youthful  vivacity,  yet  they 
were  steady  and  their  look  contained;  so  that  the 
old  gentleman,  I  concluded,  was  merely  an  eccen- 
tric enthusiast,  joyously  astride  his  rearing  hobby. 
At  Second  Avenue  we  had  turned  down-town,  and 
now,  as  my  companion  concluded,  he  stopped  me 
with  a  large  gesture  before  the  dark  door  of  a 
rather  dilapidated  tenement. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  is  the  palace  of  the  pauper, 
the  parliament  house  of  mankind's  majority." 

He  dived  into  the  dark  doorway  like  an  aged, 
but  nimble,  white  rabbit. 

"  Better  keep  your  hand  on  the  wall,"  he  said,  as 
I  stumbled  on  the  first  step.  "  Some  of  us  have 


WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE  155 

been  rather  short  of  firewood  of  late,  and  we  have 
been  forced  to  sacrifice  the  balustrade." 

I  did  as  I  was  bid,  willingly  enough,  although, 
even  through  my  gloves,  the  wall  felt  dirty,  cold 
and  greasy;  so  that  at  the  first  touch  I  shuddered 
with  repulsion.  For  the  stairs  were  in  almost  total 
darkness,  save  here  and  there,  where  some  door, 
left  open  on  a  small  and  tumbled  apartment,  gave 
some  of  its  meager  and  needed  light  escape. 

"  You  will  notice,"  the  old  gentleman  called  back 
to  me  over  his  shoulder,  "  that  the  higher  we  go, 
the  more  balustrade  we  have.  What  heat  there  is 
rises,  I  suppose,  or  it  may  be  chance,  it  may  be  just 
chance.  We're  making  a  long  climb,  you  see.  As 
yet  I  live  on  the  top  floor,  as  I  have  a  taste  for  see- 
ing the  sky.  I  probably  could  never  grow  accus- 
tomed to  living  without  sight  of  it.  This  next  to 
the  last  step  is  broken ;  you'd  better  skip  it." 

He  paused  before  his  door  a  little  out  of  breath, 
fumbling  in  the  darkness  for  the  lock.  When  it 
had  clicked  back,  he  still  held  the  knob  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  say,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  al- 
lowed myself  to  live  a  little  better  than  my  neigh- 
bors. A  man,  I  take  it,  has  a  right  to  what  he 
can  get  in  life,"  and  with  that  he  swung  the  door 
open. 

The  room  before  me  was  the  most  amazing  one 
I  have  ever  seen.  The  sun  flooded  into  it  bril- 


i56     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

liantly,  for  its  two  small,  white-curtained  windows 
faced  the  south,  and  overhead  the  larger  part  of 
the  ceiling  had  been  replaced  by  a  giant  skylight, 
with  a  rolling  shade,  like  that  of  a  studio.  A  sin- 
gle Bokhara  rug  covered  the  floor.  The  walls  were 
lined  with  shelves  almost  to  the  ceiling,  where  books 
disputed  space  with  a  bewildering  miscellany;  Ori- 
ental curios  and  European  objets  d'art  jostled  one 
another  incongruously,  and,  here  or  there,  some 
cheap  German  or  Yankee  gimcrack  rested  with  all 
the  impertinence  of  smart  and  interesting  modernity. 
In  one  corner  a  large  phonograph  stood  with  a  great 
heap  of  disks  beside  it,  while  its  other  side  propped 
a  big  banjo,  fretted  and  inlaid  like  a  colored  min- 
strel's. As  we  came  blinking  into  the  room,  three 
birds  fluttered  up  from  the  littered  center-table. 

"  Don't  keep  them  in  cages,"  the  old  gentleman 
explained,  chirping  to  them  as  they  settled  on  his 
shoulders.  "  I've  never  been  able  to  persuade  my- 
self that  a  bird  really  liked  a  cage.  This  one,"  and 
he  stretched  out  a  hand  on  which  was  perched  a  big, 
long-billed,  wicked-looking  bird  with  iridescent, 
black  plumage  and  yellow  legs  and  wattles,  "  is  a 
Mino  bird.  It  comes  from  Java,  you  know.  It 
talks  sometimes  when  it  feels  like  it." 

The  bird  eyed  me  wickedly  with  its  head  on  one 
side.  "  Welcome,"  he  croaked  once,  morosely. 

'  The  other  two  are  canaries,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman.    "  It  is  really  surprising  and  delightful  to 


WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE  157 

hear  their  varied  accompaniments  when  the  phono- 
graph is  running.     Would  you  like  to  hear  a  tune?  " 

"  If  you  will  forgive  me,"  I  said,  "  I  am  very 
anxious  to  get  at  the  business  in  hand.  You  see,  I 
have  a  very  particular  reason  for  finding  Mr.  Bond, 
so  that  I  fear  you  would  find  me  a  poor  listener. 
Do  you  really  know  something  about  him  ?  " 

•The  old  gentleman  looked  a  little  disappointed. 
"  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  we'd  better  get  to 
business  first,  but  I  have  some  delightful  new  rec- 
ords that  I  am  sure  would  interest  you.  Still,  you 
are  right;  we  had  better  have  our  talk.  Now  just 
what  was  it  that  you  wished  to  see  Mr.  Bond 
about?" 

"  I  don't  quite  know  how  to  answer  you,"  I  re- 
plied. "  My  business  with  Mr.  Bond  is  of  a  very 
private  and  personal  nature.  If  you  know  where  he 
is,  couldn't  you  simply  send  me  to  him  without 
knowing  what  I  wanted  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully. 
"  See  here,"  he  said,  after  a  reflective  moment, 
"  you'd  better  start  right  in  at  the  beginning  and 
tell  me  what  is  the  matter.  I  know,  in  the  first 
place,  that  you're  not  looking  for  Ephraim  Bond 
just  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him,  for  to  me  you 
appear  perfectly  sane.  He  has  done  something  to 
you  or  you  want  something  from  him;  one  or  the 
other,  perhaps  both,"  and  he  paused,  eying  me 
shrewdly  to  see  how  well  his  shot  had  told. 


i58     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Come,  come,"  he  said,  as  I  still  hesitated, 
"  surely  you  can  not  be  afraid  to  confide  in  me.  I 
give  you  my  word  that  I  will  hold  everything  you 
say  as  sacred,  and,  unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken, 
I  can  help  you  in  some  small  measure.  I  know 
Ephraim  Bond  and  have  known  him  for  some  years, 
but  he  is  no  friend  of  mine.  In  fact,  I  don't  care 
for  him  at  all.  Better  speak  up.  Has  he  cheated 
you  or  does  he  owe  you  money  ?  " 

Circumstance  had  never  given  me  a  confidant  in 
life.  Since  my  mother's  death  I  had  always  had 
to  thresh  out  every  problem  by  myself,  and  as  best 
I  could,  unaided.  Now  in  my  extremity,  with 
Nancy  gone,  with  no  friends,  and  with,  as  I  knew,  a 
definite  effort  being  made  against  my  search  and 
the  search  now  a  seemingly  blind  one,  this  chance 
acquaintance,  this  mild-mannered,  gentle  old  en- 
thusiast appealed  to  a  sense  other  than  my  reason, 
yet  wistfully  strong  enough  to  overshadow  a  cau- 
tious mistrust. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  Ephraim  Bond's  niece  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  There,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  there,  just  ex- 
cuse me  for  a  moment,  will  you  ?  " 

He  jumped  up  from  his  chair  and  disappeared 
through  a  door  near  the  end  of  the  room. 

"  Just  as  I  thought,"  he  said,  coming  back  a  mo- 
ment later;  "that  Mino  bird  is  washing  in  my 
water  pitcher.  I  keep  it  covered  generally,  for  he'll 


WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE  159 

be  sure  to  drown  himself.  It  would  be  much  bet- 
ter, I  suppose,  if  I  kept  my  water  in  a  pail.  But, 
try  as  I  will,  I  can't  keep  that  bird  out  of  it.  They 
live  in  swamps,  you  know.  Now  what  was  it  you 
asked  me  ?  " 

His  expression  was  so  frankly  open,  his  voice  so 
kindly  and  his  manner  so  free  from  any  thought  of 
offense,  that,  startled  and  upset  as  I  was,  I  could 
not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  do  other  than  repeat  my 
question. 

"  His  niece,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  to  be  sure, 
he  did  have  a  niece.  What  about  her  ?  " 

I  had  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  tell  him  the 
whole  story,  but  his  interruptions  and  his  sudden 
questions  were  so  disconcerting  that  now  I  paused, 
not  knowing  exactly  where  to  commence. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  speak 
out,  my  dear  sir,  speak  out.  But  perhaps  you  think 
I'm  not  treating  you  fairly.  Of  course  I  knew  his 
niece,  knew  her  quite  well  at  one  time,  although  I 
have  not  seen  her  for  some  years.  Nancy,  her  name 
was;  a  very  pretty  girl  to  my  thinking." 

He  had  hitched  his  chair  up  to  the  table,  and  had 
recommenced  the  virtuoso  drumming  that  our  de- 
parture from  the  cafe  had  interrupted. 

"  Well,"  I  said  at  last,  "  I  am  very  anxious  to 
find  Miss  Bond.  She  is  the  only  reason  I  want  to 
find  her  uncle." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  that  I 


i6o     "THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

have  utterly  forgotten  to  ask  you  your  name  ?  My 
name  is  Ogilby,  Martin  Ogilby." 

"  Mine  is  Mason  Ellsworth,"  I  said. 

"  Then  may  I  ask,"  said  the  old  gentleman  pomp- 
ously, "  just  what  interest  you  have,  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, in  Miss  Nancy  Bond  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Ogilby,"  I  answered,  "  I  may  be  doing  a 
very  foolish  thing,  but  I  am  in  great  distress  and 
you  have  been  kind  to  me.  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
the  whole  story  from  beginning  to  end." 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  and  nodded.  "  That," 
he  said,  "  is  a  very  sensible  thing  to  do." 

Nor,  after  that,  did  he  interrupt  me  once  in  the 
telling,  but  sat  very  still,  with  long,  blunt  ringers 
pressed  together  in  churchsteeple  fashion  on  the 
table  before  him.  When  I  had  done  he  sighed 
deeply. 

"  That  is  very  like  every  one  of  them,"  he  said. 
"  Men,  after  all,  can  be  counted  on  to  be  consist- 
ent." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  I  asked,  "  that  you  know 
who  the  man  in  the  brown  derby  is?  " 

The  old  gentleman  fidgeted. 

"  I  believe  you  said  he  gave  his  name  as  '  Doctor 
Morrison '  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes ;  but  I  hardly  supposed  that  to  be  his 
real  name." 

"  Well,"  the  old  gentleman  sighed,  "  I  think  we 
will  have  to  let  it  do  for  the  present.  Doctor  Mor- 


WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE  161 

risen  is  as  good  a  name  as  any  other;  better,  much 
better,  than  some." 

"  But,"  I  protested,  "  if  I  can  find  out  who  this 
man  really  is,  it  will  clear  up  the  whole  matter. 
No  one  can  hide  it  for  very  long,  once  you  know  his 
name." 

"  Don't  you  think  so  ? "  asked  the  old  gentle- 
man; "don't  you  think  so?  I  should  not  think  it 
so  very  difficult  a  thing  for  a  man  to  hide  some- 
where in  this  big  country,  or  this  big  city,  no  mat- 
ter who  knew  his  name.  In  fact,  it's  done  all  the 
time.  I  should  say  that  the  principal  thing  you 
needed  now  was  money.  I'm  a  sociologist  if  you 
will,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  but  I  don't  think  that  I'm  a 
socialist,  not  a  very  radical  one  at  any  rate.  Money 
is  a  good  defense  and  a  good  weapon;  in  fact,  I 
have  a  great  respect  for  it." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  I  said,  "  but  where  am  I 
going  to  get  it  ?  " 

"  That's  so,"  the  old  gentleman  sighed,  "  where 
are  you  going  to  get  it  ?  For  that  matter,  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, don't  you  think  this  is  a  pretty  hopeless 
search?  Even  if  you  could  find  Miss  Bond  — 
or  shall  we  call  her  Mrs.  Ellsworth  —  would  she 
care  to  return  with  you,  or,  even  should  she  re- 
turn, would  it  be  greatly  to  your  advantage? 
Could  she  have  disappeared,  do  you  think,  without 
some  connivance,  or  at  least  a  certain  acquiescence, 
of  her  own?  What  makes  you  believe  that  she  did 


162     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

not  leave  of  her  own  accord,  that  she  did  not  really 
write  the  note  you  say  you  found,  that  even  should 
you  find  her,  she  would  be  willing  to  return  ?  " 

"  Because,  Mr.  Ogilby,"  I  said,  "  because  I  love 
her  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world,  and  be- 
cause she  has  told  me  that  she  loves  me." 

"  Do  you  think  that  that  is  a  good  reason?  "  he 
asked. 

"Don't  you?" 

The  old  gentleman  got  up  from  his  chair  and 
leaned  over  me,  putting  both  hands  on  my  shoul- 
ders. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  he  said,  "  that  it's  the 
very  finest  reason  in  the  world,  and  I  think,  too,  that 
you're  a  man  after  my  own  heart." 

He  straightened  up  and  paced  the  room  with 
nervous  strides,  sinking  finally  into  his  chair  again. 
Both  of  us  sat  in  silence.  The  Mino  bird,  still  wet, 
came  in  from  the  next  room  and  hopped  up  to 
shake  his  draggled  plumage  on  the  table.  One  of 
the  canaries  trilled  into  a  soft  little  undertone  of 
song. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  gentleman  at  last,  "  a  man 
after  my  own  heart,"  and  blew  his  nose  violently. 

I  could  make  no  answer.  His  sympathy  was 
grateful  to  me,  but,  after  all,  I  had  only  told  my 
story  to  an  old  eccentric,  who  lived  at  the  top  of  a 
tenement  house  and  played  at  studying  the  world. 
That  he  seemed  to  know  the  Bonds  was  of  little 


WE  HOLD  CONFERENCE  163 

advantage  to  me,  unless  he  could  —  or  would  — 
show  me  the  identity  of  the  man  in  the  brown  derby. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  here  I've 
been  letting  you  sit  and  worry.  You  must  forgive 
me.  You  must  hear  this  new  Caruso  record.  I  find 
the  phonograph  very  soothing." 

I  smiled  weakly  in  my  disappointment  and  made 
as  if  to  get  to  my  feet,  but  he  waved  me  back. 

"  I  won't  be  a  moment,"  he  said. 

The  record  once  going,  he  went  into  his  bed- 
room again,  leaving  me  alone  to  my  disappointment 
and  the  delights  of  the  phonograph.  I  sat  with  my 
face  buried  in  my  gloved  hands  trying  to  puzzle 
some  sense  into  my  world.  The  wonderful  tenor 
voice  of  the  singer  rose  and  fell,  thrilling  with  the 
ecstasy  of  love  triumphant,  and  as  the  last  note  died 
away  there  came  a  soft  step  behind  me  and  the  old 
gentleman's  hand  was  laid  again  upon  my  shoulder. 

"  Fine,  is  it  not  ?  "  he  whispered.  "  I  could  not 
bear  to  interrupt  it.  But,  my  friend,  you  have 
work  before  you.  We  have  work  before  us  both, 
and  we'd  better  be  setting  about  it."  As  he  spoke 
he  laid  before  me  on  the  table  a  roll  of  yellow 
money.  "  That's  what  you  need  most,  just  at 
present,"  he  said. 


XVII 

THE   SINEWS   OF   WAR 

MECHANICALLY  I  picked  up  the  money  and 
counted  it  over.  There  were  ten  bills  of 
one  hundred  dollars  each,  ten  fifty-dollar  bills  and 
five  hundred  dollars  in  fives,  tens  and  twenties. 
Two  thousand  dollars  had  dropped  from  the  skies, 
as  it  were,  into  my  lap. 

"But  —  but,"  I  said,  "I  can  not  take  all  this 
money.  It  is  a  large  sum,  greater  than  I  shall  need 
or  can  repay." 

Mr.  Ogilby  shook  his  head  vigorously.     "  That 

is  a  very  absurd  remark,"  he  said.     "  In  the  first 

place  it  is  hardly  a  large  sum,  and  in  the  second 

place  you  can  not  possibly  tell  how  much  you  will 

need.     As  far  as  repaying  goes,  we  can  talk  about 

that  when  the  time  comes.     I  am  asking  you  to 

give  me  no  note  or  receipt,  so  you  see  that,  if  you 

wish,  you  can  repudiate  your  debt  altogether."     I 

flushed,   I   suppose,   for   he   added   quickly,    "  Oh, 

"I  know  that  you  will  not,  nor  did  I  mean  to  imply 

any  such  thing.     I  simply  want  you  to  feel  that 

the  money  is  yours  to  use  or  do  with  as  you  like, 

and  that  (although  you  understand  this  is  in  con- 

164 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  165 

fidence)  there  is  plenty  more  where  it  came  from. 
I  have  told  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  that  I  am  a  student 
of  human  nature,  but  I  am,  or  want  to  be,  a  little 
more  than  that.  Philosophy,  when  all  is  said  and 
done,  is  a  pretty  cold  wand  to  touch  the  world 
with.  It  is  all  very  well  to  stand  aside  and  theo- 
rize ;  but  I,  for  one,  can  not  resist  on  occasion  plung- 
ing my  hand  into  life's  pasty.  This  money  is  not 
a  gift  but  an  investment,  and  I  am  imposing  one 
condition  on  you  in  offering  it." 

"Condition?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby,  his  mild  blue  eyes 
fixed  seriously  upon  me,  "  a  condition.  I  want 
you  to  keep  in  touch  with  me,  to  let  me  know  how 
your  search  prospers.  I  want  to  be  —  what  is  it 
the  boys  call  it  nowadays? — '  in  on  the  game/  ' 

He  brought  out  the  phrase  of  modern  slang  in 
serious  triumph.  Just  how  far  the  man  was  an 
eccentric  I  could  not  tell.  We  are  very  apt  to 
brand  as  eccentricity  any  conduct  or  point  of  view 
which  strays  radically  from  that  to  which  we  are 
accustomed.  That  this  old  man  should  wish  to 
spice  his  life  with  other  people's  joys  and  sorrows, 
that  he  should  even  wish  to  make  its  struggle  a 
vicarious  purchase,  set  him  apart,  to  be  sure,  from 
the  men  and  women  of  my  acquaintance,  but,  on 
reflection,  gave  me  no  ground  whatsoever  for  be- 
lieving him  irresponsible  or  insane. 

"  Your  condition  is  a  very  easy  one,"  I  said, 


166     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  and  I  am  going  to  accept  it  and  the  money  too, 
Mr.  Ogilby.  I  am  taking  it,  you  understand,  as 
a  loan;  but  I  have  told  you  my  circumstances,  so 
that  you  understand  how  distant  the  prospect  is 
of  my  being  able  to  repay  it,  should  I  be  forced 
to  spend  the  entire  sum." 

Mr.  Ogilby  laughed.  "  Don't  you  think,  Mr. 
Ellsworth,"  he  said,  "  that  with  your  wife,  your 
love  and  your  future  happiness  at  stake,  you  are 
carrying  scruple  a  little  too  far  in  wondering 
whether  I  am  mentally  competent  ?  " 

He  had  stopped  his  pacing  of  the  room  as  he 
said  this,  and  stood  looking  down  at  me,  a  little 
twinkle  in  the  mild,  blue  eyes.  Both  judgment  and 
diagnosis  were  so  correct  and  so  unexpected  that 
I  found  myself  unable  to  answer. 

"  Come,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby,  "  you  under- 
stand what  I  mean,  and  that  what  I  say  I  mean 
in  good  part.  It  is  the  privilege  of  age,  my  boy, 
to  speak  its  mind  out.  Advice  and  money  are 
about  all  that  it  has  to  give." 

He  straightened  his  shoulders,  and  pushed  the 
white  hair  back  from  his  forehead. 

"  It  is  a  bugle  call,  sir,  a  bugle  call.  I  doubt, 
sir,  if  I  shall  ever  be  so  old  that  I  am  deaf  to 
that  echo  of  youth.  Whatever  happened,  at  your 
age,  the  great  wall  of  China  should  not  stop  me; 
and  if  I  needed  money  to  find  my  love,  and  could 
get  it  in  no  other  way,  I  should  take  the  first  money 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  167 

that  came  to  hand,  with  or  without  the  consent  of  its 
owner.  You  have  spirit  enough,  I'll  warrant,  but 
you  have  not  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  relative 
value  of  things.  Leave  your  moralizing  to  us  old 
men  ;  we  have  little  else  to  do.  What  difference  does 
it  make,  whether  or  not  you'll  be  able  to  repay  my 
money?  The  vital  thing  is  that  you  have  it." 

"  I  know  that  your  philosophy  is  wrong,"  I 
laughed,  "  and  I  suspect  that  you  are  preaching 
very  bad  morals,  but  you  are  right  in  your  reproof." 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  what  are  you 
going  to  do  next,  now  that  you  have  the  sinews  of 
war?" 

"  You're  quite  sure,"  I  said,  "  that  you  can't 
tell  me  who  the  man  in  the  brown  derby  is.  I 
can  not  help  feeling  that  you  know;  and  if  you  do 
know,  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  why  you 
shouldn't  tell." 

For  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Ogilby  resumed  his 
drumming  on  the  table,  and  I  could  see  that  he  was 
debating  the  matter.  At  last  he  looked  up  at  me 
uneasily. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  he  said,  almost  defensively, 
"  that  I  have  done  something  for  you  already  ?  I'll 
admit  that  I'm  pretty  sure  who  this  Doctor  Morrison 
is,  and  perhaps  some  day  I  may  tell  you;  but  not 
to-day.  Really,  I  don't  feel  that  I  could  tell  you 
to-day.  You'll  have  to  take  my  word  for  it  that 
I  would  like  to.  Besides,  it  shouldn't  be  such  very 


i68     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

hard  work  for  you  to  find  out  for  yourself,  and 
that  would  be  better  —  very  much  better,  very 
much  better  indeed.  In  fact,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  I 
not  only  do  not  care  whether  you  repay  my  money 
or  not,  but  I  should  be  obliged  to  you  if  you  could 
manage  to  forget  where  it  came  from,  or  in  any 
event,  to  make  it  a  sort  of  honorable  secret  be- 
tween us  two.  This  '  Doctor  Morrison,'  if  he  is 
the  man  I  think  he  is,  has  his  good  points,  some 
very  good  points  indeed.  He  did  something  once 
that  was  not  only  clever  but  very  pleasing.  In  fact, 
he  righted  a  great  wrong,  so  that,  but  for  your 
own  peculiar  circumstances,  I  would  not  for  the 
world  do  anything  that  in  any  way  militated 
against  him.  He's  clever,  dreadfully  clever.  I 
should  dislike  extremely  making  an  enemy  of  him, 
so  that  I  must  beg  you  to  be  very  careful." 

He  grew  more  and  more  nervous  as  he  spoke, 
and  there  was  an  intensity  in  his  final  appeal  that 
startled  me.  The  youthful  valor  of  a  few  minutes 
ago  had  left  his  face,  so  that  he  seemed  only  a 
nervous,  old  man,  afraid,  sorry,  and  ashamed, 
whose  fear  overmastered  either  shame  or  sorrow; 
so  that  without  knowing  why,  my  heart  went  out 
to  him  in  sympathy. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Ogilby,"  I  said;  "you  may  de- 
pend upon  it  that  when  I  find  Doctor  Morrison  I 
shall  mention  neither  you  nor  this  money." 

"  No  one  must  know  about  it,  no  one,"  he  said. 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  169 

"  Do  you  suppose/'  I  asked,  "  that  if  I  could 
find  him,  Ephraim  Bond  could  or  would  help  me?  " 

The  old  gentleman's  hand  went  to  trembling  lips. 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  he  said,  "  but  I  do  not  think 
so.  If  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  keep  away  from 
him."  He  got  up  and  putting  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  leaned  close  to  my  ear,  "  I  have  some- 
times thought,"  he  whispered,  "  that  that  man  was 
the  devil  incarnate." 

I  stared  at  him  with  my  first  doubts  as  to  his 
sanity  strongly  reawakened. 

"  Now,"  Mr.  Ogilby  said  more  quietly,  "  what 
has  been  your  own  experience  of  him?  Should 
you  say  he  was  a  man  to  be  trusted  or  a  man  to 
be  treated  carelessly?  You  may  have  found  some 
measure  of  happiness  through  him,  but  do  you 
think  he  did  what  he  did  for  either  your  happi- 
ness or  that  of  his  niece  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  you  are  quite  right ;  he  is  the 
devil." 

Mr.  Ogilby's  hand  clutched  my  sleeve.  "  Youth 
and  strength,"  he  said,  "  should  be  afraid  of 
nothing,  even  the  devil.  I'm  glad  that  I  have 
found  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  very  glad  indeed.  Be- 
tween us,  perhaps,  we  can  put  the  devil  in  chains. 
I  think  you  are  almost  stronger  than  even  Doctor 
Morrison." 

"  I  wish  that  were  all  that  counted,"  I  answered ; 
"  physical  strength  isn't  of  much  use  nowadays. 


170     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Modern  machinery  and  modern  laws  have  put  sheer 
muscle  out  of  the  running." 

Delight  was  coming  back  again  into  the  old  face. 

"Do  not  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby; 
"  do  not  be  too  sure.  Machinery  and  laws,  after 
all,  are  superficial.  As  I  have  told  you,  adventure 
lies  just  under  the  surface  of  life.  You  may  turn 
any  corner  to  find  all  civilization  swept  away  for 
you,  to  find  yourself  suddenly  in  the  midst  of  such 
a  situation  that  modernity  will  drop  from  you  like 
a  garment,  law  and  custom  be  stripped  away,  and 
yourself,  the  naked  man,  with  only  man's  primal 
and  eternal  weapons  to  help  you;  your  heart,  your 
brain,  your  bodily  strength.  Even  a  king  may 
find  a  sudden  dagger  at  his  heart,  may  have  to 
think  and  act  quickly,  may  have  to  struggle  and 
sweat,  man  to  man,  with  an  assassin,  and,  by  the 
strength  which  you  make  too  little  of,  decide  the 
very  pages  of  history  itself." 

There  was  a  wildfire  of  enthusiasm  about  this 
little  old  gentleman,  which  burned  away  doubt  and 
discouragement  like  a  flame.  I  found  myself  for- 
getting that  I  was  very  tired,  that  I  was  baffled  and 
once  defeated;  like  the  great  royal  poet,  I  felt  my 
strength  renewed  and  the  joy  of  battle  stirring  in 
my  heart. 

"  I  wish  I  could  take  you  with  me,  Mr.  Ogilby," 
I  said ;  "  I  find  you  a  healthy  stimulant." 

Mr.  Ogilby  sighed,  "I  wish  so  too,  but  that  is 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  171 

impossible.  I  can  not  do  much  but  look  down 
from  my  window  at  life  and  occasionally  shout 
encouragement.  May  I  ask  what  it  is  that  you 
propose  to  do  first  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  first  I  shall  go  back  to  my 
hotel  to  see  if,  by  any  chance,  there  is  a  letter  from 
Nancy,  and  then  perhaps  the  best  thing  to  do  would 
be  to  go  to  some  good  private  detective  bureau.  I 
do  not  know  why  that  did  not  occur  to  me  in  the 
first  place,  but  detective,  in  some  way,  meant  to 
me  police,  and  police  generally  mean  publicity.  I 
have  been  very  anxious,  if  possible,  to  keep  this 
matter  private." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby. 

"  But  naturally  a  private  detective  is  an  entirely 
different  thing,  and  now  with  my  pocket  full  of 
money  I  can  afford  one." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby,  "  you  must  let  me  hear 
from  you  every  day.  No,  do  not  make  a  note  of 
my  address.  It  will  be  easy  enough  for  you  to 
remember  it,  and  things  committed  to  paper  so 
often  come  into  other  hands." 

"  I  know  that  well  enough,"  I  said  ruefully. 

"  Exactly,  exactly.  It  would  even  be  better, 
Mr.  Ellsworth,  if  you  left  the  envelope  blank,  and 
only  addressed  it  the  moment  before  slipping  your 
letter  into  the  box." 

He  opened  the  door  and  escorted  me  himself  to 
the  head  of  the  stairs.  When  I  reached  the  dark- 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

ness  of  the  next  landing,  I  looked  back  to  see  him 
still  standing  there  peering  after  me. 

"  Good-by,"  I  said,  "  and  thanks." 

"  Good-by  and  God  be  with  you,"  said  Mr. 
Ogilby. 

I  clattered  heedlessly  down  the  nauseous,  dan- 
gerous stairs,  keeping  well  to  the  wall,  to  be  sure, 
but  quite  unmindful  of  their  treacherous  gloom ;  for 
now  I  had  a  definite  plan  and  all  the  money  I  was 
likely  to  need,  and  the  brave  words  of  the  little, 
old  gentleman  on  the  top  floor  were  still  echoing 
like  a  bugle  in  my  ears.  I  set  my  face  west,  and 
half  running,  half  walking,  found  my  way  back  to 
my  hotel. 

"  Good  luck  ?  "  asked  my  friend,  the  hotel  clerk. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  drawing  out  my  money.  "  I  want 
to  pay  my  bill  and  have  you  put  half  of  this  in 
the  safe.  Put  it  in  an  envelope  under  your  own 
name,  so  that,  if  need  be,  you  can  telegraph  it  to 
me." 

"Going  away?"  he  asked,  as  unstartled  as  if 
my  sudden  wealth  were  the  most  natural  thing  in 
the  world. 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  I  said,  "  and  for  the  present  I 
am  going  to  keep  my  room.  Has  any  mail  come 
forme?" 

The  clerk  shook  his  head.  I  hardly  expected 
any,  and  turned  away  to  search  the  red  telephone 
book  for  a  list  of  detective  agencies.  I  found  sev- 


THE  SINEWS  OF  WAR  173 

eral,  and,  with  the  old  gentleman's  advice  still  in 
my  mind,  committed  to  memory  the  addresses  of 
four  or  five  which  struck  my  fancy.  I  thought  I 
would  make  the  rounds  until  I  found  some  man 
I  personally  liked,  who  seemed  honest,  intelligent 
and  experienced  enough  to  work  with  me  and  for 
me.  But  before  going  out  again,  I  stopped  at  the 
desk  and  repeated  the  names  which  I  had  chosen 
to  the  clerk. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  any  of  these  peo- 
ple ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"  I  guess  they're  all  of  them  straight  enough," 
said  the  clerk.  "  Still  after  the  mysterious  Slater, 
or  are  you  out  for  revenge  ?  " 

"  A  little  of  both,"  I  answered,  "  or  even  a  little 
of  either." 

"  Well,"  said  the  clerk,  "  that's  the  way  to  do  it, 
providing  of  course  that  you  get  a  good  Sherlock. 
These  sleuths  are  like  everybody  else,  some  of  them 
straight,  some  of  them  crooked.  Don't  be  afraid 
to  cross-examine  them.  By  the  way,  the  mail's  just 
come  in.  Shall  I  run  over  it  for  you,  or  are  you 
in  too  much  of  a  hurry?  " 

"No,"  I  said,  "I'll  wait,  but  there  isn't  much 
chance  that  you'll  find  anything." 

In  spite  of  my  doubt,  I  found  myself  waiting 
very  impatiently. 

"  Here  you  are,"  the  clerk  said ;  "  is  this  any  use 
to  you  ?  "  and  he  tossed  a  letter  onto  the  counter. 


174     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

The  envelope  was  an  ordinary  one,  thumb-marked 
and  dirty,  and  with  a  bloated  distortion,  as  if  it 
had  once  been  wet.  It  had  been  addressed  to  me  at 
Marbury,  and  readdressed  from  there  in  a  scrawl 
of  purple  ink.  As  carefully  as  my  excitement 
would  permit,  I  tore  it  open  and  pulled  out  the  little 
half-sheet  it  contained. 

"  Steady  on,"  said  the  clerk;  "  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"  It's  all  right,"  I  replied;  "  it's  all  right."  For 
down  at  the  bottom  of  the  sheet,  squeezed  into  the 
last  bit  of  cramped  space,  was  a  name  I  looked  for, 
set  before  another  which  brought  the  tears  stinging 
into  my  eyes  with  the  surprise  and  joy  of  it,  with 
an  unbounded  thanksgiving  for  their  mystic  and 
magical  coupling ;  for  I  read  simply,  "  Nancy  Ells- 
worth." 


XVIII 

I   HEAR   NEWS 

I  SLIPPED  the  note  back  into  its  envelope  and 
into  the  side  pocket  of  my  coat,  where  I  kept 
my  hand  upon  it  as  if  it  were  some  sentient,  pre- 
cious thing  that  might  escape  me  unaware.  I  was 
wild  to  read  it,  but  impatient,  too,  to  be  alone  with 
this  my  first  signed  letter  from  Nancy,  to  be  out 
of  public  observation,  away,  even,  from  the  friendly 
eyes  of  the  clerk.  I  did  not  wait  for  the  elevator 
but  ran  up  the  three  flights  of  stairs,  and  locked 
and  bolted  the  door  of  my  room  behind  me. 
Even  there  I  searched  the  place,  peering  into 
closets  and  beneath  the  bed,  as  some  timorous  old 
maid  might  have  done,  to  make  the  certainty  of 
my  privacy  doubly  sure.  Then  again  I  drew  the 
letter  out.  It  was  written  very  minutely  and  in 
pencil,  so  that  I  had  to  hold  it  to  the  light : 

"  MASON,  DEAR  : 

"  In  the  first  place  I  am  well ;  but  hurry,  for  I  am 
afraid.  As  I  wrote  you  at  Mrs.  Lathrop's  —  and 
surely  that  good  woman  has  somehow  got  you  my 
note  —  they  took  me,  pretending  I  was  insane. 
They  still  outwardly  keep  that  pretense  up,  and  in 

175 


176     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

private  he  is  cruel  enough  to  boast  of  it  to  me.  I 
am  in  a  little  private  retreat  in  Winford.  I  do  not 
know  how  many  people  are  here ;  but  I  do  not  think 
that,  aside  from  one  or  two  show  patients,  the  rest 
are  any  more  insane  than  I  am.  I  did  not  know 
that  such  a  place  could  exist.  There  are  men, 
women  and  even  children,  all  of  them  prisoners. 
He  still  calls  himself  '  Doctor  Morrison  '  and  seems 
very  sure  of  himself.  He  has  told  me,  of  course, 
that  our  marriage  was  a  farce  and  that  I  am  to 
marry  him  or  stay  here  all  my  life.  I  hate  and  fear 
him  even  more  than  I  used  to;  but  I  have  let  him 
think  that  he  could  frighten  me  into  marrying  him. 
He  has  always  wanted  me  to  marry  him,  you  know. 
This  I  am  giving  to  one  of  the  maids,  who  loves  me 
for  some  reason,  and  whom  I  think  I  can  trust. 
But  hurry,  dear  love,  and  come  for  me,  for  I  love 
you  and  am  afraid.  Be  very  careful;  for,  by  its 
very  nature,  this  place  is  under  the  most  careful 
guard.  You  are  in  all  my  thoughts  and  prayers. 

"  NANCY  ELLSWORTH." 

I  read  and  re-read  the  note  until  I  had  it  by  heart, 
and  then,  carefully,  I  burned  it ;  for  I  was  no  longer 
so  confident  of  the  security  of  my  pockets;  burned 
it,  that  is,  all  but  the  last  line  and  the  signature. 
I  risked  nothing  by  keeping  them,  and  I  could  not 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  destroy  this  wonderful  mystic 
union  of  Nancy's  written  name  and  my  own. 
"Nancy  Ellsworth,"  I  had  never  even  dared  to 
say  it  to  myself. 

The  name  Winford  I  knew  well,  or  at  least  the 


I  HEAR  NEWS  177 

name  of  the  town  which  I  am  here  calling  Winford. 
Times  have  changed  since  then,  and,  wrong  as 
everything  was,  I  have  no  wish  to  cast  stigma  on 
a  place  that  has  been  swept  clean.  So  Winford 
is  as  different  a  name  from  the  real  one  as  any- 
thing I  can  contrive.  I  say  that  I  knew  the  name 
well,  and  yet  that  was  about  all  that  I  did  know 
about  the  town,  save  that  it  was  somewhere  in  the 
northern  part  of  New  York  state.  It  was,  I  be- 
lieved, little  more  than  a  village.  I  could  reach 
it  in  less  than  a  day,  so  that,  although  a  perverse 
fate  still  held  the  name  of  the  man  in  the  brown 
derby  from  me,  it  would  not  be  many  hours  be- 
fore I  had  it  from  him  himself.  Nancy,  of  course, 
thought  that  I  already  knew  it,  was  sure  that  Mrs. 
Lathrop  had  given  me  her  note,  the  note  which 
may  have  ended  with  his  name.  It  was  a  name 
evidently  so  familiar,  and  so  distasteful,  that  the 
caution  of  repeating  it  had  not  occurred  to  her. 
It  would  have  made  things  easier,  but,  after  all,  I 
had  the  essential  fact,  and  knew  where  she  was. 
Surely  there  must  be  a  train  that  night  and,  at  any 
rate,  it  would  not  take  me  long  to  find  out;  but 
when  I  had  given  my  number  and  stood  waiting 
for  the  railroad  information  bureau's  answer,  I 
realized  that  I  was  beginning  to  learn  very  thor- 
oughly of  late  what  fear  was.  Perhaps  there  was 
only  one  train  a  day,  and  that  did  not  leave  until 
some  time  in  the  morning.  I  think  I  must  have 


i;8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

startled  that  impersonal  human  time-table  who  an- 
swered my  call  by  replying  quite  unconsciously, 
"  Thank  God,"  when  he  told  me  that  I  could  go  on  to 
Syracuse  that  night  and  connect  with  the  train  for 
Winford  in  the  morning;  but  I  suppose  a  human 
time-table  must  hear  many  queer  things. 

My  train  did  not  leave  until  nine,  which  gave  me 
five  hours  to  make  whatever  preparations  I  wished ; 
twice  as  much  time  as  I  needed  and  five  times  as 
much  time  as  I  desired.  But  I  had  barely  hung 
up  the  receiver  before  the  telephone  bell  rang. 
The  clerk's  voice  answered  my  impatient  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  There's  a  lady  down  here,"  he  said,  "  who's 
inquiring  for  you.  Do  you  wish  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  What  is  her  name  ?  "  I  asked. 

The  clerk  laughed. 

"  Another  of  your  mysterious  friends,"  he  said. 
"  She  just  wants  to  know  if  you  are  here,  and  if 
she  can  see  you.  She  says  her  name  doesn't  matter, 
but  I'll  admit  she's  quite  respectable.  I  have  her 
waiting  in  the  parlor." 

"All  right,"  I  replied;  "I'll  be  down  in  a  min- 
ute." 

She  was  so  bonneted  and  shawled  that  at  first 
I  did  not  recognize  her. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  she  said,  "  I  must  say, 
you're  a  poor  correspondent." 

"  Why,  it's  Mrs.  Lathrop!  "  I  cried.     "  What  on 


I  HEAR  NEWS  179 

earth  brings  you  here  ? "  Then  in  sudden,  silly 
hope,  "  Have  you  heard  any  news?  " 

"  I  should  say  not.  That's  why  I  came  in.  I 
couldn't  sleep  a  wink  for  thinking  about  you  and 
that  young  lady,  and  I  looked  all  this  morning  for 
a  telegram  or  something  from  you.  Then  I  just 
locked  up  the  house  and  started  for  New  York. 
It's  kind  of  been  borne  in  on  my  mind  that  I  was 
a  pretty  big  fool  to  let  those  rascals  fool  me.  It's 
bad  enough  for  a  woman  to  fool  a  woman,  but 
when  a  man  can  do  it,  too,  it  is  time  she  was  doing 
something  about  it.  I  argued  it  out  to  myself  that 
if  they  were  slick  enough  to  fool  me,  you'd  be  a 
baby  to  them.  Oh,  I  know,  all  you  men  think 
you're  awfully  independent  and  clever  and  all  that, 
and  I  suppose  you  feel  hurt  at  my  speaking  so 
plainly;  but  you  all  were  babies  once,  you  know, 
and  you  never  seem  to  get  over  it  the  way  the  girl 
babies  do.  Why,  Adam  would  have  never  found 
the  spunk  to  get  out  of  that  baby  kindergarten  Eden 
place  to  a  real  interesting  world  where  something 
was  going  on  and  folks  wore  clothes  like  grown- 
ups, unless  Eve  had  put  him  up  to  it.  So  here  I 
am,  and  here  I  stay  until  we  find  out  something. 
Has  anything  happened  already?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  a  good  deal  has  happened. 
Just  a  few  minutes  ago  I  got  a  letter  from  my 
wife;  so  that  now  I  know  where  she  is,  and  I  am 
going  to  start  there  to-night." 


i8o     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Mrs.  Lathrop  took  off  her  shawl  and  tossed  it 
into  a  chair. 

"  All  right,"  she  said.  "  What  time  do  we  have 
to  start?" 

"We?"  I  repeated. 

"  Yes,  we.  When  I  said  I  was  here  to  stay  I 
didn't  mean  at  this  hotel.  I  meant  here,  right  on 
this  job." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Lathrop,"  I  protested,  "  I  don't  see 
how  that  is  possible.  In  the  first  place  it  is  dan- 
gerous; in  the  second  place  I  am  going  away  up 
in  the  northern  part  of  the  state." 

"Well,  what  of  it?  I  didn't  expect  to  sit  here 
in  New  York  and  twiddle  my  thumbs.  I'm  mostly 
a  stay-at-home  body,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  but  when  I 
do  start  out  anywhere  I  generally  go  all  the  way. 
You  can't  scare  me  with  *  dangers.'  What  do  you 
mean  by  it  ?  " 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I  was  sand-bagged  yester- 
day, for  instance." 

Mrs.     Lathrop     folded     her    hands     decisively. 

"  That's  enough,"  she  said;  "  it's  even  worse  than 
I  expected.  Perhaps  you  will  say,  young  man,  that 
that  would  have  happened  if  I  had  been  along." 

I  laughed ;  for  she  looked  so  much  like  a  ruffling, 
fierce,  little  bird. 

!<  Yes,  I  know  that's  a  man's  answer,"  she  said ; 
"  you  always  laugh  when  you  haven't  anything  to 
say,  but  it's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face  that 


I  HEAR  NEWS  181 

you  need  to  be  taken  care  of.  Now  don't  argue 
about  it,  for  I'm  coming  along  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  it.  If  you  think  I'm  going  to  sit  there  at 
home,  doing  nothing  but  worry  myself  into  a 
nervous  breakdown,  you're  very  much  mistaken." 

I  was  puzzled.  Her  proposal,  although  it  seemed 
so  absolutely  impossible,  was  made  with  such  force 
and  determination  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  really 
was  at  a  loss  for  a  reply.  And  the  more  I  thought, 
the  less  impossible  it  seemed,  and  I  found  myself 
secretly  arguing  on  her  side,  touched  by  her  whole- 
hearted interest,  and,  in  spite  of  my  better  judg- 
ment, pleased  at  the  prospect  of  companionship. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  at  length,  "  you  can  come." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  sniffed.  "  Thank  you,"  she  said ; 
"  I  was  going  to  do  that  anyhow." 

"  But,"  I  went  on,  a  little  disconcerted,  "  I  want 
you  fully  to  realize  that  I  really  think  you  may 
run  into  some  danger.  I  know  that  is  a  queer  thing 
to  say  in  these  modern  times  of  ours,  but  it  has 
been  proved  to  me  already  that  an  unscrupulous 
man  fighting  for  his  desire,  and  feeling  himself 
above  or  outside  the  law,  will  use  unexpected  and 
dangerous  weapons.  Of  course  if  you  come  I  shall 
do  my  best  to  protect  you  — " 

"Protect  fiddlesticks,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop;  "you 
just  get  me  off  your  mind  and  I  will  do  all  the  pro- 
tecting that's  going  to  be  done." 

"  Very  well,"  I  laughed,  "  I  merely  wanted  to 


182     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

warn  you.  Now,  Mrs.  Lathrop,  I  have  an  errand 
to  do,  or  rather  a  couple  of  errands.  Would  you 
rather  wait  for  me  here,  or  would  you  rather  come 
along?" 

"  I  would  rather  come  along,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop. 
"  What  are  your  errands  ?  " 

"  I  thought  in  the  first  place  that  I  would  look 
up  a  detective  agency  and  get  one  of  their  men  to 
help  us." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  Don't  you  go  wast- 
ing your  money  on  any  of  those  silly  detectives.  I 
had  a  cousin  once  who  hired  one  of  them  to  detect 
who  stole  a  silver  tea-pot.  And  he  detected  around 
for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  after  he'd  accused  the 
cook,  who  had  been  with  her  twenty  years,  he  got 
mad  and  sent  in  a  bill  that  would  have  paid  for 
a  whole  tea-set,  and  said  the  thief  had  probably 
melted  it  up.  My  cousin  got  so  worked  up  about 
it  that  she  looked  over  the  house  again  herself, 
and  found  the  tea-pot  shoved  back  on  the  pantry- 
shelf.  Those  fellows  are  just  a  waste  of  money. 
If  you  and  I  can't  find  out  anything  that  needs 
to  be  found  out,  nobody  can.  What's  your  other 
errand?" 

I  gave  up  the  detective  without  argument,  as  I 
felt  reluctant  myself  to  engage  one.  "  My  other 
errand,"  I  said,  "  is  to  buy  a  good  revolver." 

"  That  errand's  just  as  foolish  as  the  other  one," 


I  HEAR  NEWS  183 

Mrs.  Lathrop  commented  decisively.  "  Land 
knows,  you  look  strong  enough  to  take  care  of 
yourself  without  one;  and  a  revolver  is  a  dreadful 
temptation.  A  body  gets  pushed  in  a  corner,  or 
gets  mad  or  something,  especially  if  he  happens 
to  be  a  young  man  like  you,  and  the  first  thing  he 
knows  he  has  gone  and  shot  somebody  and  trouble's 
just  commenced.  The  real  gun's  the  kind  I  carry." 
Before  my  amazed  eyes  she  reached  for  a  small 
traveling-bag,  opened  it,  and  took  out  what  seemed 
to  me  a  very  serviceable  revolver.  "  Now  this," 
she  continued,  "  is  of  some  use  and  doesn't  ever  get 
you  into  any  trouble.  You  see,  it  looks  like  a  re- 
volver and  so  does  all  the  scaring  necessary  when 
there's  any  scaring  to  be  done;  and  when  you  have 
to  shoot,  it  shoots;  but  it  doesn't  go  making  holes 
in  people  that  you  can't  undo.  It's  what  they  call 
a  Ki-yi  gun.  Maybe  you  know  them.  They  carry 
them  in  automobiles  for  dogs  sometimes.  This  one 
I  keep  for  tramps,  I  live  alone  so  much.  It  works 
with  a  spring  and  a  bulb  somewhere  on  its  insides, 
and  you  load  it  with  water,  or  cologne,  or  ammonia, 
or  whatever  you  want ;  it  all  depends  on  how  mean 
your  disposition  is.  This  time  I  put  in  some  house- 
hold ammonia  before  I  left  the  house  in  hopes  I 
might  get  a  crack  at  that  trained  nurse.  The  last 
tramp  I  shot  I  only  used  cologne.  I  guess  you 
could  have  heard  him  roar  for  half  a  mile.  I  sup- 


i84     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY  . 

pose  he  thought  he  had  been  blinded  for  life.  It 
stops  them  every  time,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  and  that's 
all  you  need  of  a  gun." 

The  idea  was  so  original  and  so  plausible  that 
Mrs.  Lathrop  rose  still  further  in  the  high  place 
she  held  in  my  estimation. 

"  I  am  quite  convinced,  Mrs.  Lathrop,"  I  said. 
"  I  see  that  I  am  to  be  under  very  good  protection." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  smiled.  "  I  suppose  you  mean 
that  for  a  joke,  but  you  just  wait  and  see.  Have 
you  all  the  money  you  need?  Because  I  have 
brought  some  in  case  you  didn't  happen  to  have." 

I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  her.  "  I  can  not  see," 
I  said,  "  why  you  are  so  kind  to  me,  why  you  are 
upsetting  your  life  and  throwing  yourself  into  such 
a  doubtful  adventure  for  me;  but  God  bless  you 
for  it,  all  the  same." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  took  my  hand  and  patted  it,  re- 
leasing it  with  a  sudden,  embarrassed  little  gesture. 

"  Oh,  well,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  somehow  I've  sort  of 
taken  to  you,"  she  said,  "  and  I  quite  lost  my  heart 
to  that  poor  young  lady.  Then,  too,  I  want  to  get 
even  with  that  doctor  and  that  nurse.  I  don't  sup- 
pose you'd  believe  it,  but  it's  so;  I  get  awful  tired 
of  living  there  alone  with  nothing  ever  happening. 
It's  one  reason  I  rent  my  rooms;  just  to  see  a 
new  face  once  in  a  while ;  and  even  that  isn't  what 
you'd  call  leading  exactly  an  exciting  life.  I  says 
to  myself  last  night.  '  Sarah  Lathrop,  even  if  your 


I  HEAR  NEWS  185 

heart  wasn't  in  it,  which  it  is,  here's  a  chance  for 
you  to  get  right  out  where  things  are  doing,  and 
travel  around  a  little  and  get  over  the  fidgets.' 
If  I  was  a  man,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  I  sometimes  am 
afraid  that  I  might  have  been  a  highway  robber, 
I  do  get  so  tired  of  just  the  same  thing  every  day." 

Her  expression  was  such  an  incongruous  mixture 
of  swaggering,  swashbuckling  abandon  and  awed 
apology  at  the  darkness  of  her  own  conception  of 
herself,  that  I  could  not  keep  from  laughing. 

"  Laugh  if  you  like,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  and 
I  do  suppose  it's  funny,  but  all  the  same  it  must 
be  pretty  pleasant  to  go  galloping  down  the  road 
in  a  black  mask  with  swords  and  knives  and  pistols 
all  over  you,  and  the  lord  mayor's  watch  in  your 
pocket,  and  the  king's  soldiers  beating  the  woods 
for  you.  Suppose  you  ring  for  some  tea,  Mr.  Ells- 
worth, and  tell  me  about  how  you  got  sand-bagged." 

So  over  the  tea-cups  I  told  the  story  of  my  recent 
adventures  (not  without  some  shame  for  the  part 
I  had  played  in  them),  to  this  little,  bird-like 
woman,  who,  but  for  the  matter  of  a  kind  heart, 
sex,  and  a  century  or  so,  might  have  been  galloping 
away  with  the  timepiece  of  the  outraged  head  of  a 
corrupt  municipal  government. 


XIX 

A  JOURNEY  TO  THE   COUNTRY 

IT  was  a  novel  experience  to  talk  to  another 
human  being  about  myself;  but  Mrs.  Lathrop 
had  the  wonderful  and  unusual  conversational  gift 
of  being  able  to  listen,  and  I  soon  found  it  easy 
and  pleasant  enough,  as  I  suppose  any  man  does 
once  he  is  given  the  opportunity.  She  interrupted 
me  from  time  to  time  with  an  abrupt  question 
or  caustic  comment ;  so  that,  when  dinner  time  came 
unexpectedly,  we  walked  into  the  dining-room  to- 
gether with  a  firm  feeling  of  friendship  that  ably 
counterfeited  an  acquaintanceship  of  years'  stand- 
ing, and  for  the  morrow  we  had  made  and  dis- 
cussed a  hundred  plans. 

"  Now,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  as  we  sat  down  at 
table,  "  we  aren't  going  to  say  a  thing  here  in  this 
dining-room  about  what  we're  going  to  do.  I 
don't  suppose  either  of  us  can  get  it  entirely  out 
of  our  heads,  but  we  are  going  to  try  to  all  we  can. 
Little  interests  are  the  only  things  to  talk  about 
when  you  are  eating.  I've  always  held  that, 
while  you're  considering  a  good  dinner  at  all,  it 
deserves  the  first  consideration.  It  isn't  very  often, 

1 86 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY      187 

either,  that  I  dine  with  a  young  gentleman  in  a 
New  York  hotel,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me  make 
the  most  of  it.  Please  order  the  nicest  things  you 
know  how,  outlandish  things,  if  we  can  make  a 
meal  of  them,  and  things  nobody  could  find  in  a 
cook-book.  It's  a  pleasure  once  in  a  while  to  eat 
something  you  can't  even  pronounce.  Every- 
day food  is  good  enough  for  every  day,  but  on 
special  occasions  even  beef  is  better  for  being  in 
disguise." 

I  looked  over  the  bill  of  fare,  therefore,  with  care 
and  deliberation,  and  to  please  her  gave  the  whole 
order  in  French  to  the  waiter. 

"That's  perfectly  lovely,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop; 
"  I  couldn't  understand  a  word  you  said.  Do  you 
think  the  waiter  could  ?  " 

"  Well,  he  pretended  he  could,"  I  replied,  "  so 
he'll  probably  bring  us  something." 

I  strongly  suspect  that  this  was  all  a  device  of 
my  new  friend's  to  beguile  me,  for  a  little,  away 
from  my  weariness  and  anxiety.  And  although, 
try  as  I  would,  I  could  not  quite  put  away  my 
mental  uneasiness,  yet  even  the  trying  helped,  and 
I  got  up  from  the  table  strengthened  and  refreshed. 
In  fact,  we  had  eaten  with  such  Epicurean  leisure 
that  we  found  we  had  only  just  a  comfortable 
amount  of  time  in  which  to  make  the  train.  The 
subway  station  was  not  far  off,  and  we  walked  to 
it  through  the  pleasant  May  evening.  When  we 


1 88     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

were  near  it  Mrs.  Lathrop  laid  a  hand  upon  my 
arm. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  "  I  am  hypnotized  with  too 
much  story  of  adventure  and  very  likely  I  am  fool- 
ish, but  it  does  seem  to  me,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  as  if 
you  were  being  followed  again." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,  ever  since  we  left  the  hotel,  there  has 
been  a  man  about  half  a  block  back,  who  has  taken 
every  turn  that  we  have  and  who  has  never  caught 
up  to  us  or  dropped  any  more  behind." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  I  said.  "  We  shall  see 
as  soon  as  we  get  into  the  subway." 

So,  after  we  descended  the  stairs,  instead  of 
crossing  directly  to  the  ticket  booth,  we  stepped 
aside  into  an  angle.  Two  or  three  people  hurried 
past  us.  I  was  following  one  of  them  with  my 
eyes,  when  abruptly  Mrs.  Lathrop  pinched  my  arm, 
and  .1  looked  up  to  see  the  gaunt  form  of  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Stevens.  He  stood  almost  with  his 
back  to  us,  anxiously  scanning  the  platform. 
After  an  agonizing  moment  he  moved  forward. 

"Yes,"  I  whispered  to  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "that  is 
the  man  who  married  me,  the  man  of  the  Seventh 
Avenue  saloon,  the  man  who  probably  sand-bagged 
me  in  the  park." 

"  He  looks  ornery  enough,"  she  whispered  back. 
"  I  tell  you  what  you  do,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  He'll 
turn  around  and  see  us  in  a  moment.  You  just 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY     189 

get  the  tickets  and  we'll  go  through.  Course  you 
couldn't  do  anything  to  him  right  here  on  the  plat- 
form; besides,  you've  got  your  hands  full  of  bags. 
So,  when  we're  through  the  gate,  we'll  separate 
a  little,  and  I'll  meet  you  up  by  the  information 
bureau  at  the  Grand  Central.  If  he  sees  you,  you 
just  wait  as  if  you  didn't  notice,  and,  when  the 
train  comes  in,  wait  until  almost  the  last  moment, 
and  then  make  a  dash  for  the  door.  I'll  manage, 
somehow,  to  get  in  his  way.  Oh,  no,  I  won't  get 
hurt.  I  know  that  I'm  little,  but  I'm  wiry.  Then, 
you  see,  I  can  come  along  by  the  next  train." 

"  But  won't  he  simply  follow  you  then?  "  I  pro- 
tested. 

"  I  don't  believe  so,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  You 
see,  he  hasn't  had  a  real  good  look  at  me,  yet. 
Besides,  I'm  going  to  be  in  disguise." 

She  slipped  one  hand  in  the  pocket  of  her  jacket, 
and  drew  out  and  unfolded  an  enormous  brown 
veil  in  which  she  triumphantly  swathed  her  head. 

"Just  like  Dick  Turpin,"  she  whispered  paren- 
thetically behind  it.  "  Now,  you  walk  a  little  ahead 
and  drop  in  the  tickets,  and  act  as  if  you'd  never 
seen  me." 

Her  scheme  seemed  reasonable  enough,  and  cer- 
tainly it  was  imperative  that  we  give  the  slip  to 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Stevens.  So,  when  our  tickets 
had  been  dropped  into  the  box,  I  started  forward, 
carelessly  and  alone,  to  the  middle  of  the  platform, 


190 

leaving  Mrs.  Lathrop  to  stand  where  we  had  en- 
tered near  its  farther  end.  I  glanced  at  Stevens 
and  saw  that  he  was  watching  me,  but,  of  course, 
let  no  glint  of  recognition  show  in  my  own  face. 
When  the  train  came  in  I  waited  a  moment,  then 
made  for  the  nearest  doorway ;  but  I  had  not  waited 
quite  long  enough,  and  an  absent-minded,  belated 
passenger  or  so  blocked  the  way.  Over  my 
shoulder  I  saw  Mr.  Stevens  close  behind  me.  I 
turned,  therefore,  as  if  I  had  changed  my  mind, 
and  then,  with  a  sudden  dash,  I  ran  past  Mrs. 
Lathrop  toward  the  waiting  door  in  the  first  car 
of  the  train.  As  I  ran  I  could  hear  him  running 
behind  me,  and,  passing  Mrs.  Lathrop,  heard  her 
say,  "  All  right." 

The  thing  all  happened  in  a  flash.  I  squeezed 
myself  in  past  the  door  that  the  guard  was  already 
commencing  to  shut  and  stood  for  a  second, 
squeezed  in  the  opening,  looking  back  over  the 
platform.  The  Reverend  Stevens  was  lying  flat  on 
his  face,  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  one  of  his 
own  familiar  weapons,  and  Mrs.  Lathrop  was  ab- 
solutely nowhere  to  be  seen. 

The  guard  jerked  me  through  the  door  angrily 
and  slammed  it  after  me,  and  in  another  moment 
the  train  began  to  move.  And  puzzling  about  the 
strange  disappearance  of  Mrs.  Lathrop,  I  walked 
back  into  the  car,  to  find  her  sitting  calmly,  divest- 
ing herself  of  her  swathing  "  disguise." 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY      191 

"  How  on  earth,"  I  whispered,  dropping  into  the 
seat  beside  her,  "  did  you  manage  to  do  that?  " 

Mrs.  Lathrop  folded  her  veil  and  put  it  back  in 
her  pocket,  in  an  amused  triumph  she  made  but 
little  effort  to  conceal. 

"  You  owe  me  a  new  umbrella,  Mr.  Ellsworth," 
she  said.  "  I  broke  mine  sticking  it  between  those 
long  legs.  You  could  hear  him  rattle  as  he  came 
down.  Scripture  tells  us,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  that  an 
eye  for  an  eye  is  a  wicked  and  by-gone  rule;  but 
I  don't  know  that  it  says  anything  anywhere  about 
a  rib  for  a  rib,  so  that  I  can't  feel  very  sorry  about 
breaking  my  umbrella.  It's  lucky  that  I  managed 
to  squeeze  into  that  rear  door  though,  for  if  he 
ever  had  been  able  to  get  up  again,  I  guess  he  would 
have  had  me  arrested,  and  you  would  have  had 
to  go  on  to  Winford  all  alone.  I  would  have  got 
my  picture  in  the  paper,  too,  a  thing  which  never 
yet  has  happened  to  any  of  our  family." 

From  my  wakeful  upper  berth  that  night,  once 
or  twice  I  heard  an  audible  and  reminiscent  chuckle 
from  that  middle-aged  adventuress  below  me,  a 
soothing  chuckle  that,  I  think,  was  largely  responsi- 
ble for  a  mental  relaxation  which  brought  sleep 
to  me;  an  uneasy  sleep,  to  be  sure,  but  one  from 
which  I  awoke  refreshed,  to  find  Mrs.  Lathrop  al- 
ready up  and  waiting  for  me  as  we  drew  into  Syra- 
cuse. 

We  breakfasted  in  the  station,  and  had  an  un- 


I92     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

eventful  three  hours'  trip  to  Winford.  Winford, 
like  many  other  little  towns  in  upper  New  York 
state,  looked  as  if  it  had  been  picked  up  whole 
by  some  careful  hurricane,  and,  being  torn  from 
its  New  England  roots,  had  been  gently  dropped 
upon  its  present  site.  There  was  the  same  long 
village  street,  that  split  on  two  sides  of  a  tree- 
arched,  common  green.  The  houses  were  white 
or  yellow,  commodious  and  comfortable,  set  apart 
with  broad  elbow  room  and  approached  by  little, 
box-bordered  walks.  Big  rambling  houses  they 
were,  whose  low  attached  kitchens  led  into  still 
lower,  but  still  attached,  wood-sheds,  which  gave 
in  turn  upon  barns  almost  as  large  as  the  houses 
themselves,  and  furnished  snug  and  covered  ways 
between  the  two-footed  and  the  .  four-footed 
worlds,  ways  that  must  have  been  grateful  enough 
on  howling  blizzard  nights.  And  behind  them  we 
could  see  the  bowered  beauty  of  helter-skelter  gar- 
dens, commencing  already  to  bloom  with  the  sweet, 
old-fashioned,  familiar  flowers  that  gladdened 
dead  and  bygone  eyes  in  the  days  when  America 
was  American. 

"  Pretty,  isn't  it?  "  said  Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  Pretty 
and  quiet  and  peaceful.  I  feel  sometimes  as  if  I 
would  like  nothing  better  than  to  live  in  a  town 
like  this  for  always,  and  then  I  know  perfectly 
well  that  I  couldn't.  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  per- 
haps it  is  too  peaceful ;  sort  of  like  a  cemetery." 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY      193 

I  drew  a  long  breath  of  the  sweet  air,  that  bore 
faintly  the  indescribable  smell  of  box  and  the 
faintly  cloying,  unearthly  fragrance  of  lilies  of  the 
valley. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  I  said.  "  I  think  it  is 
because  we  have  lived  so  long  away  that  we  feel 
uncomfortable  among  once  intimate  and  unheeded 
ghosts." 

For  a  little  while  both  of  us  walked  on  in  silence. 
Then  Mrs.  Lathrop  shrugged  her  shoulders  as  if 
she  were  shrugging  back  common  sense. 

"  Are  you  just  going  for  a  walk  through  the 
town,"  she  asked,  "  or  have  you  any  definite  place 
in  mind  ?  " 

"  I  thought  I  would  go  to  the  post-office  first," 
I  said.  "  I  have  a  letter  to  write  and  mail  and, 
if  there  are  lodgings  to  be  had  in  town,  we  shall 
be  apt  to  find  notice  of  them  there." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  and 
for  a  while  we  walked  on  again  in  silence. 

The  post-office  we  found,  as  I  had  half  expected, 
a  branch  industry  of  the  general  store.  I  bought 
paper  and  envelopes  and,  while  Mrs.  Lathrop 
poked  about  and  asked  questions  of  the  proprietor,  I 
sat  down,  by  his  invitation,  at  the  post-office  desk 
and  wrote  a  letter  to  my  friend,  Mr.  Ogilby,  telling 
him  of  my  letter  from  Nancy,  my  encounter  with 
Mr.  Stevens,  and  our  journey  here,  and  dropped 
it  sealed  and  addressed  into  the  convenient  mail 


194     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

bag  that  hung  open-mouthed  on  my  side  of  the  mail 
chute. 

"  Now  you  come  right  along,  Mr.  Ellsworth," 
said  Mrs.  Lathrop  when  I  had  finished  writing. 
"  You  see,"  she  continued  animatedly,  when  we  left 
the  store,  "  I  know  as  much  about  the  town  now  as  if 
I  was  the  official  guide.  There  isn't  anybody  can 
tell  you  so  much  about  folks  as  the  village  post- 
master, especially  since  postal-cards  have  got 
so  popular.  This  one  is  a  pretty  talkative  man, 
too,  so  that  now  I  know  nearly  as  much  as  he  does. 
There  is  a  sort  of  hotel  a  few  doors  farther  on, 
but  I  don't  think  that  we  had  better  go  there.  From 
all  I  can  make  out,  it  isn't  used  by  much  of  any- 
body except  the  cheap  kind  of  traveling-men  that 
come  to  such  little  places  as  this,  and  they're  as 
talkative  as  the  dressmaker.  The  way  they  sell 
their  goods  is  to  throw  in  a  free  budget  of  all  the 
news  that's  happened  in  three  states  and  we  would 
be  entirely  too  interesting  to  them.  But  there's 
a  little  place  farther  on  where  they  take  summer 
boarders,  and  that  will  look  much  more  natural. 
Even  so,  you  had  better  register  under  another 
name." 

"  Have  you  anything  to  suggest  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I'll  lend  you  mine.  You  can  write  yourself 
down  as  John  Lathrop,  and  we'll  tell  them  you're 
my  nephew.  I'll  adopt  you  as  my  nephew  right 
now,  so  there  won't  be  any  lie  about  it." 


A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  COUNTRY      195 

"Thank  you,  Aunt  Sally,"  I  said;  "I'll  try  to 
be  a  good  nephew  to  you.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
always  have  regretted  my  lack  of  an  aunt." 

"  That's  very  nice  of  you,  John,"  said  Mrs. 
Lathrop. 

,We  registered  therefore  as  Mrs.  Sarah  Lathrop 
and  John  Lathrop  of  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  a 
city  we  both  knew  well  enough  to  answer  questions 
about.  Being  early  comers,  we  got  good  rooms 
in  the  front  of  the  house,  and  at  luncheon  had  the 
dining-room  mostly  to  ourselves. 

"  We  have  come  to  the  right  place,"  said  Mrs. 
Lathrop,  as  we  got  up  from  table. 

"  Yes,  it's  very  decent,"  I  answered. 

"  I  mean  the  right  town,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  I 
thought  I'd  let  you  get  your  luncheon  in  peace, 
John,  before  telling  you.  But  I  was  looking  out 
of  my  window  just  before  I  came  down,  and  there 
went  that  Doctor  Morrison  walking  up  the  street  as 
bold  as  brass,  and  scowling  as  though  he  had  a 
grudge  against  all  the  world." 


XX 

NANCY    AGAIN 

THE  "  sanatorium  "  we  found  with  some  diffi- 
culty. Even  at  our  lodgings  we  were  afraid 
to  ask  open  questions  or  to  betray  any  direct  object 
for  our  visit.  Nancy's  letter  had  been  so  positive 
that  the  place  was  guarded  with  extraordinary  pre- 
caution (and  indeed,  if  the  place  was  what  she 
thought  it  was,  its  proprietors  had  need  of  the  utmost 
vigilance),  that  we  felt  sure  they  must  have  some 
means  of  keeping  in  touch  with  all  the  current  news 
of  the  town,  and  that  the  inquisitiveness  of  new  ar- 
rivals would  soon  be  brought  to  their  notice.  So, 
although  the  only  plan  we  thought  of  was  an  in- 
direct and  a  slow  one,  yet  we  chose  it  for  its  very 
safety.  It  consisted  simply  in  having  ourselves 
driven  about  the  country  in  our  easy  role  of  summer 
visitors,  and  in  asking  questions  of  the  driver  about 
every  place  we  passed. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  we  found  it, 
an  innocent-looking  place  enough,  I  suppose,  but  to 
me,  knowing  what  I  did,  and  with  the  thought  of 
Nancy  shut  up  there,  it  seemed  as  menacingly  dis- 
mal as  the  House  of  Usher. 

196 


NANCY  AGAIN  197 

Certainly  its  architecture  was  sufficiently  horrible. 
It  was  one  of  those  singular  architectural  freaks 
more  common  to  forty  years  ago  than  to  the  saner 
present  time,  and  was  built,  I  suppose,  to  represent  a 
Rhine  castle;  for  it  was  broad  and  rather  low,  with 
here  and  there  an  unmeaning  turret,  and  with  its 
flat  roof  hidden  by  castellated  battlements.  In 
stone  it  might  have  been  a  dignified  eyesore,  but 
in  its  palpable  wooden  imitation  it  was  a  ludicrous 
one. 

The  place  was  somewhat  in  disrepair.  Here  and 
there  a  battlement  had  rotted  and  fallen  away, 
or  an  oblong  discoloration  of  the  walls  showed  the 
loss  of  a  plank  that  had  once  hardily  masqueraded 
as  granite.  Even  the  ivy,  that  ran  darkly  over  its 
walls,  and  stretched  lighter  tendrils  to  the  roof  it- 
self, seemed  not  so  much  the  happy  refuge  of  a 
thousand  twittering  birds,  as  all  decent  ivy  should, 
but  rather  some  great  wave  that  had  swept  sullenly 
against  the  rotting,  tawdry  splendor,  running  its  de- 
vouring fingers  to  the  falling  battlements,  a  wave 
that  must  slowly  recede  again  and  with  its  next 
surge  engulf  this  obstructing  corruption  in  its  own. 
When  we  had  driven  past,  and  I  looked  back  at  it, 
the  windows  on  that  side  reflected  in  distortion 
some  brightness  of  the  sun,  and  I  saw  for  the  first 
time  that  they  were  barred.  Mrs.  Lathrop  sitting 
beside  me  gave  a  little  shiver. 

"  Are  you  cold  ?  "  I  asked  her. 


198     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  No,"  she  answered  shortly ;  nor  during  the  rest 
of  our  drive,  which  I  now  made  as  brief  as  possible, 
did  she  vouchsafe  another  word.  But  when  we  had 
gone  up  to  our  private  sitting-room  she  turned  to 
me. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  now,  Mason  Ells- 
worth? "  she  asked. 

"  I  am  going  right  back,"  I  said,  "  as  quickly  as 
I  safely  can.  I  don't  quite  know  what  I  am  going 
to  do  when  I  get  there,  but  of  course  I  am  going  to 
find  Nancy  if  possible,  and  if  I  can't,  I'm  going  to 
reconnoiter  and  see  how  I  can  get  into  the  place." 

"Well,  hurry,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop. 

"You  may  be  sure  I  will  do  that,"  I  replied. 
"  It  was  yourself  who  advised  me  to  go  slow." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  and  of  course 
you  must  go  slow,  but  for  all  that,  hurry  as  much 
as  you  can;  for  I  did  not  fully  realize  what  it  was 
until  I  saw  it.  My  heart  is  cold  with  it  yet ;  and  that 
sweet  young  lady  is  in  there,  and  I  am  partly  re- 
sponsible." 

"  That,  of  course,  is  absurd,"  I  answered.  "  If 
anybody  is  responsible,  I  am.  But  I  shall  have  her 
out  of  there,  Mrs.  Lathrop,  even  if  I  have  to  hurt 
somebody  to  do  it" 

"  Hurt  anybody  you  like,"  she  snapped ;  "  I'm 
sure  they  deserve  it ;  only  be  careful  not  to  get  your- 
self in  trouble.  Remember,  you  have  to  keep  your- 
self free  and  unhampered." 


NANCY  AGAIN  199 

When  I  got  back  to  the  place  again,  I  hid  myself 
behind  a  big  clump  of  bushes  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  road.  Behind  me  was  empty  farm  land,  so 
that  I  felt  myself  secure  from  observation  and  able 
to  give  my  undivided  attention  to  studying  the  san- 
atorium and  the  grounds  about  it. 

I  sat  for  some  time  peering  through  the  branches 
of  my  leafy  cover,  and  had  about  made  up  my 
mind  that  the  guard  was  less  vigilant  than  Nancy 
supposed,  when  a  man  came  into  view  about  the 
eastern  corner  of  the  place.  He  looked  about  him 
cautiously  for  a  moment,  and  called  up,  apparently 
to  the  blank  wall  of  ivy,  "  Hey,  Jim." 

"  Yes,"  a  voice  answered,  "  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Got  a  chew  ?  "  the  man  asked. 

From  behind  the  battlements  of  the  roof  another 
figure  rose. 

"Sure,"  he  said;  "catch,"  and  tossed  something 
to  the  waiting  man  below.  "  What  time  is  it  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  About  half -past  five,"  the  man  on  the  ground 
answered.  "  I  wish  it  was  six." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  man  on  the  roof,  and  sank 
down  out  of  sight,  while  the  other  resumed  his 
leisurely  round. 

But  now  that  I  knew  where  to  look,  from  time  to 
time,  I  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  forehead  and 
eyes  of  the  man  on  the  roof,  as  he  peered  cau- 
tiously through  the  castellated  barrier;  and  I 


200     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

thanked  Heaven  that  I  had  hidden  myself,  and  was 
doubly  thankful  that  evidently  I  had  been  able  to 
hide  myself  unobserved.  Apparently  at  six  o'clock 
the  guards  were  to  be  changed,  and  I  wondered  if 
the  place  was  so  watched  and  patrolled  both  night 
and  day.  I  knew,  at  least,  that  the  night  would  be 
dark,  and  that  the  moon,  by  which  I  had  seen  the 
night  prowler  at  Marbury,  would  no  longer  make  the 
world  too  bright  for  prowlings  of  my  own. 

I  settled  myself  down  behind  my  bush,  stretching 
out  my  cramped  limbs  to  wait  as  best  I  could  the 
coming  darkness.  Infrequent  pedestrians  passed 
my  hiding-place,  and  once  or  twice  some  country 
conveyance  rattled  by;  but  no  one  stopped  or  made 
any  attempt  to  go  into  the  sanatorium.  Indeed,  I 
thought  the  villagers  who  passed  me  quickened  their 
pace  a  little  as  they  went  by  the  grounds  and  glanced 
askance  at  the  ominous  old  building  as  if  it  were 
something  to  fear.  At  ten  minutes  to  six  the  watch- 
man who  patrolled  the  grounds  passed  in  front 
of  the  building,  and  at  ten  minutes  past 
another  man,  whom  I  supposed  to  be  his  six 
o'clock  relief,  came  into  view.  This  man,  I 
noticed  with  regret,  was  much  more  careful  and 
alert,  probably  a  more  trustworthy  person  for  the 
difficult  night  watch.  But  I  was  encouraged  to  find 
that  these  rounds  of  the  watchman  were  made  with 
an  almost  exact  regularity,  that  there  were  twenty 
minutes  between  each  coming  and  going.  And  I 


NANCY  AGAIN  201 

hoped,  once  darkness  had  set  in,  to  be  able  to  do 
much  in  those  twenty  minutes.  Of  course  there 
was  always  the  watchman  on  the  roof,  but,  if  the 
night  were  dark  enough,  I  thought  my  chances  good 
of  escaping  observation. 

But  darkness,  which  in  a  working  day  seems  to 
come  so  unexpectedly,  as  if  it  were  thrown  over 
the  world  like  a  great  blanket,  lingered  unbeliev- 
ably. The  tender  glory  of  sunset  grayed  into  twi- 
light as  slowly  as  if  some  new  and  not  quite  om- 
nipotent Joshua,  unable  absolutely  to  stop  the  sun, 
had  at  least  malignly  retarded  it  just  below  the 
horizon  line.  But  at  length  twilight  was  an  accom- 
plished thing,  and  with  it  the  windows  in  the  build- 
ing opposite  flared  here  and  there  into  barred  ob- 
longs of  brightness,  until  dark  shades  were  drawn, 
and  the  windows  were  only  thin,  penciled,  golden 
parallelograms  in  the  somber  blankness  of  the  im- 
penetrable wall  of  black.  It  was  ten  minutes  of 
nine  before  I  judged  it  dark  enough  to  make  my 
attempt.  The  watchman,  I  thought,  must  just  have 
passed. 

Through  my  long  watch  I  had  studied  the  place 
very  carefully,  in  imagination  pacing  over  and  over 
again  the  road  I  should  take  to  the  building,  so 
that  now  I  stole  across  the  road  and  the  soft  grass 
of  the  lawn,  going  without  a  stumble,  as  softly  as 
a  burglar  might,  until  with  my  hand  I  felt  the  wall 
before  me.  I  had  chosen  the  place  where  the  ivy 


202     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

seemed  thickest;  for  it  was  to  be  my  ladder  to  the 
rooms  above.  Now,  as  I  searched  gently  among 
the  leaves  for  the  giant  parent  stem,  I  heard  a  little, 
half -suppressed  cough.  I  had  come  a  moment  or 
two  too  soon. 

It  had  grown  so  dark  that  I  could  not  see  the 
watchman,  who  was  approaching  me,  save  only 
where  his  face  made  a  lighter  blur  in  the  darkness, 
and  the  white  line  of  his  collar  showed  more  dis- 
tinctly beneath  it.  I  turned  up  the  collar  of  my 
coat  to  hide  my  own,  and,  with  my  head  bowed, 
backed  close  to  the  wall  into  the  cool,  soft  mass  of 
long-stemmed  ivy  leaves.  I  do  not  know  whether 
he  heard  anything  or  not,  but  he  stopped  just  in 
front  of  me,  and  I  could  distinctly  smell  the  hot 
lacquer  of  his  closed  bull's-eye  lantern,  and  hear  his 
breathing  even  above  the  pounding  of  my  heart. 
Then  fate  was  good  to  both  of  us;  he  saved  his 
neck  and  continued  on  his  rounds. 

When  I  was  sure  that  he  must  have  turned  the 
corner,  I  slowly  and  cautiously  began  my  climb, 
feeling  along  the  mighty  stem  and  its  looped  and 
twisted  branches,  as,  holding  myself  tight  against 
the  wall,  I  climbed  in  the  darkness  with  groping 
hand  and  foot.  I  must  have  mounted  ten  feet, 
when  I  came  upon  a  false  window,  a  blank  niche 
set  into  the  wall  after  the  purposeless  fashion  of  those 
days  of  architectural  atrocity.  As  I  pulled  myself 
up  into  it  the  night  stillness  was  suddenly  shattered 


NANCY  AGAIN  203 

by  the  frightened  shrilling  of  innumerable  sparrows. 
I  shrank  back  into  the  niche,  holding  myself  close, 
and  as  much  behind  the  vines  as  possible;  for  I 
heard  the  soft  whistle  of  the  man  on  the  roof,  and 
the  thudding  footsteps  of  the  returning  watchman. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  man  on  the  ground. 

"  Don't  know,"  the  one  above  answered,  "  but 
something  has  frightened  the  birds.  Listen  to 
them." 

The  man  on  the  ground  grunted.  "  That's  right. 
Something's  troubling  them.  Better  have  a  look." 
And,  as  he  spoke,  a  long  pencil  of  light  streamed 
from  his  unshuttered  lantern  and  began  to  waver 
rapidly  over  the  base  of  the  wall. 

The  ivy  leaves  were  densely  thick  over  the  de- 
pression in  which  I  stood,  but  I  very  much  doubted 
if  I  could  remain  concealed,  and  thought  that  at 
best  I  could  only  fight  for  it,  and  get  away  perhaps 
with  my  face  unknown.  The  lantern  light  was  pick- 
ing out  vivid  patches  of  ivy  leaves,  sweeping  from 
side  to  side  along  the  length  of  the  building,  and 
with  every  sweep  mounting  a  little  higher.  Sud- 
denly the  watchman  started  forward,  striking  out 
with  his  stick,  which  mowed  half  an  armful  of 
leaves  from  the  wall;  and  into  the  vivid  circle  of 
the  lantern's  light  leaped  a  great  black  cat  with  blaz- 
ing eyes,  a  very  devil  of  a  cat  that,  yet,  must  surely 
have  been  Heaven  sent. 

".What  is  it?  "  called  the  voice  from  the  roof. 


204     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

The  man  below  me  laughed  and  shut  his  lantern 
slide. 

"  Cookie's  cat  on  a  still  hunt,"  he  replied,  "  but  his 
eyes  looked  out  at  me  as  if  some  of  them  really 
had  gone  loony." 

"  Careful,"  said  the  man  on  the  roof. 

The  birds  were  still  circling  around  me  in  the 
darkness,  lighting  and  flying  off  restlessly  again, 
scolding,  chattering  and  screaming  as  sparrows  will, 
and,  as  I  knew  that  I  must  disturb  still  more  of 
them,  I  climbed  quickly,  under  cover  of  the  present 
disturbance.  In  a  minute  more  of  climbing  I  came 
to  a  window,  open,  save  for  the  bars  before  it,  and 
a  green  drawn  curtain  inside  which  scarcely  stirred 
in  the  soft  May  air.  Very  cautiously  I  stretched 
my  hand  out  and  pushed  the  shade  aside  the  fraction 
of  an  inch,  until  I  could  see  the  room  within.  It 
was  bare  as  a  room  in  a  hospital ;  a  dejected-looking 
young  man  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  reading  a 
tattered  paper  novel,  and  he  was  all  alone.  I  re- 
leased the  curtain,  and  edged  along  sideways  to  the 
next  lighted  window.  In  this  room  a  middle-aged 
woman  paced  the  floor  nervously,  and,  after  a  glance, 
I  went  along  still  farther,  peering  in  window  after 
window,  as  I  came  to  them ;  and  with  each  glimpse 
into  the  barren  brightness,  my  anger  rose. 

It  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  such  a  place  could 
exist,  that  in  a  kindly  world  such  heartless  cruelty 
could  be  planned  and  countenanced  by  man;  for,  as 


NANCY  AGAIN  205 

Nancy  had  written  me,  here  were  men,  women  and 
even  children,  each  one  locked  in  and  alone,  and 
each,  as  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge,  absolutely  sane. 
There  were  many  faces,  to  be  sure,  where  sorrow 
had  written  indelible  lines;  faces  where  any  last 
gleam  of  hope  seemed  to  have  flickered  and  gone 
out,  leaving  the  mind  drearily  blank,  a  sterile  field, 
ploughed  and  made  ready  for  the  poison  seeds  of 
madness.  I  was  tempted  more  than  once  to  tear 
the  very  bars  from  the  window  and  to  fight  my  way 
in  to  whatever  devil  might  be  in  charge,  that  he 
might  lead  me  the  more  quickly  to  Nancy.  Once 
I  had  found  her,  once  I  had  her  safe  and  beyond 
this  present  danger,  I  made  up  mind  that  these  other 
unfortunates,  who  suffered  here  with  her,  who  had 
some  of  them  probably  been  here  for  years,  should 
be  set  free,  that  the  whole  abomination  should  be 
opened  up  with  the  flooding  light  of  state  authority. 
But  now  I  cared  only  to  find  Nancy  herself,  to  find 
her  and  take  her  away. 

Once,  as  I  paused  before  a  window,  I  was  nearly 
discovered;  for  an  old  gentleman  raised  the  shade 
of  the  room  with  a  jerk,  that  he  might  look  out 
restlessly  into  the  night.  It  was  only  his  poor  eye- 
sight and  the  unaccustomed  darkness  that  gave  me 
time  to  dodge  beyond  his  range  of  vision.  I  had 
come  to  the  last  window  of  all,  and  had  raised  the 
shade  perfunctorily  before  climbing  to  the  floor 
above,  when  I  found  Nancy. 


XXI 

A  WORD 

THE  room  was  much  like  the  others  into  which 
I  had  looked,  bare,  with  a  sort  of  sickening 
imitation  of  institutional  cleanliness.  The  walls 
were  unrelieved  by  a  single  picture,  and  save  that 
they  were  here  and  there  blotched  or  cracked  with 
age,  looked,  as  I  have  said,  very  much  like  the  walls 
of  a  private  room  in  a  hospital.  The  broad  boards 
of  the  floor  were  bare  also,  and  at  some  rather  re- 
mote time  had  been  painted  a  nondescript  green. 
The  room  was  almost  without  furnishings.  A 
rickety  dresser  stood  against  one  wall,  a  painted 
iron-frame  wash-stand  with  tin  pitcher  and  bowl 
occupied  a  corner,  and  across  the  room  from  the 
dresser  and  against  the  opposite  wall  was  a  little, 
single,  iron  bed,  whose  coverings,  although  clean, 
were  in  a  state  of  crying  disrepair.  There  was 
also  a  wooden  chair  in  the  room,  as  there  was  in 
each  of  the  others.  The  only  piece  of  furniture  that 
at  all  distinguished  it  was  a  great,  tumbledown,  easy 
chair,  whose  tattered  velvet  was  half  hidden  by  an 
old  steamer  rug. 

206 


A  WORD  207 

Nancy  was  seated  in  this  chair  with  her  back 
turned  almost  squarely  upon  the  window.  The 
dress  in  which  I  had  last  seen  her  had  been  replaced 
by  a  plain  garment  of  striped  gingham  such  as 
trained  nurses  wear,  and  which,  I  suppose,  was  an 
extra  precaution  against  her  escape,  a  modified 
form  of  prison  dress.  Some  little  rustle  of  the  win- 
dow shade,  perhaps,  made  her  turn  her  face  toward 
the  window,  and  I  saw  that  she  was  pale  and  had 
been  crying. 

"  Nancy,"  I  whispered,  "  Nancy." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  stood  looking  about 
her,  one  slim  hand  raised  fearfully  to  her  heart. 
"  Did  somebody  call  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  I  said.  "  It  is  I,  Mason. 
Here  at  the  window." 

She  crossed  the  room  uncertainly,  as  if  she  had 
heard  many  voices  of  late,  or  had  waited  so  anx- 
iously to  hear,  that  now  she  could  not  believe. 

"  You,  Mason.     You !  "  she  whispered. 

"  Yes,  I  climbed  up  the  ivy.  I  am  here  at  the 
window.  I  have  come  to  take  you  home  again." 

She  knelt  on  the  floor  beside  the  window,  and 
I  raised  the  shade  a  little,  so  that  now  we  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes. 

"  My  dear,  my  dear,"  I  said,  "  are  you  well  ? 
Is  everything  all  right  here?  " 

Nancy  drew  a  long,  shuddering  breath.  "  Oh, 
Mason,  I  am  so  glad,  glad  you  have  come.  I  have 


2o8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

been  so  worried  about  you.  I  was  afraid  —  afraid 
they  might  have  killed  you." 

"  I  don't  think  they  would  go  quite  so  far  as 
that,"  I  laughed. 

"  I  don't  know,  Mason,"  Nancy  said  very  seri- 
ously. "They  frighten  me.  They  are  capable  of 
almost  anything  wicked,  desperate  or  wrong,  and 
I  am  afraid  for  you  even  now.  It  is  mad  of  you 
to  be  clinging  there  with  your  face  to  the  bright 
light.  I  am  going  to  pull  down  the  shade." 

"  Don't,"  I  said.  "  The  watchman  won't  be 
round  again  for  ten  minutes  at  least,  and  I  want  to 
see  you." 

"  No,"  said  Nancy,  "  it  is  too  dangerous.  I  am 
going  to  pull  it  down.  We  can  talk  just  as  well 
from  different  sides  of  the  curtain." 

"Bdt  — "  I  protested. 

"  No,"  said  Nancy  firmly,  "  it  has  to  be."  Then 
with  a  little  flush  and  so  softly  that  I  could  scarcely 
hear  the  whisper,  "  Kiss  me,  dear." 

She  bent  forward  so  that  her  face  pressed  close 
against  the  cruel,  rusting  bars  of  iron,  the  wondrous 
mystery  of  her  beauty  tenderly  enfolding  her.  The 
dear,  brave  eyes  looked  into  mine  for  an  eternal 
instant,  then  fell  as  I  bent  and  kissed  her  lips.  The 
agonies  of  hell  could  not  have  frightened  me  then. 

'  You  are  coming  with  me  now,  now,"  I  said, 
and  stretched  one  hand  to  a  bar  of  the  iron  grating, 
which  bent  in  my  hand. 


Nancy,"   I   whispered,  "  Nancy  " 


A  WORD  209 

Nancy  caught  my  wrist  with  a  quick,  restraining 
little  gesture.  "  No,  Mason,  not  that  way,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  too  dangerous  for  you.  Yes,  too 
dangerous  for  both  of  us.  I  am  going  to  pull  down 
the  shade,  and  you  must  talk  to  me  quietly;  for  of 
course  you  can  take  me  away,  to-morrow,  perhaps, 
and  there  is  no  immediate  danger." 

"  No  danger,"  I  repeated ;  "  why,  Nancy,  the  place 
is  horrible." 

'  Then  you  had  better  not  look  at  it  any  more," 
said  Nancy,  and  pulled  down  the  shade.  "  Really, 
dear,"  she  continued,  "  it  is  best  for  both  of  us. 
Even  suppose  that  you  could  break  these  bars,  and 
I  almost  think  you  could,  Mason,  you  would  have 
to  carry  me  down  the  way  you  came,  and  it  would 
be  very  hard  for  you  to  do,  even  if  the  ivy  were 
strong  enough  to  hold  us.  Can  you  hear  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  and  I  suppose  you  are 
right."  For  the  possibility  of  the  ivy  breaking  un- 
der our  combined  weight,  and  of  the  fall  for  Nancy, 
cooled  my  flare  of  anger  like  a  dash  of  cold  water. 
"  I  will  come  around  to-morrow  morning,  then,  and 
get  in  on  some  pretext  or  other.  Let  them  stop  me 
if  they  can." 

For  a  moment  Nancy  did  not  answer. 

"Listen,  dear,"  she  said  at  length.  "I  do  not 
know  how  it  is  going  to  be  done.  You  must  think 
of  that  But,  if  possible,  I  want  you  to  take  me 
away  from  here  quietly,  to  depend  on  your  wit  and 


210     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

not  your  strength.  For  these  men  here  have  every- 
thing at  stake.  This  sanatorium  has  been  running 
for  a  good  many  years  now,  so  that  I  think  that 
none  of  them  would  stop  at  murder  itself  to  prevent 
open  exposure.  It  is  a  very  hazardous  business, 
and  it  means  prison  for  them  if  they  are  caught. 
They  must  have  counted  on  that,  Mason.  I  think 
they  are  protected  by  the  town  authorities  here  in 
some  way,  but  I  am  very  sure  that,  rather  than  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  state  law,  they  would  not 
hesitate  to  kill  you.  Dear  heart,  you  must  not  risk 
all  I  have  in  the  world  because  you  are  impatient 
for  me." 

She  was  speaking  almost  in  a  whisper;  but 
through  the  soft,  low  tones  of  the  voice  I  loved, 
sounded  a  new  and  vibrant  quality,  a  new-found 
something  as  old  as  humanity  itself,  the  gentle,  om- 
niscient wisdom  of  a  woman  to  the  man  she  loves. 
What  man  is  there  that  must  not  bow  to  it,  yet  feel 
himself  the  more  a  man? 

'  You  are  right,"  I  said.  "  I  suppose  it  is  the 
savage  in  me  that  makes  me  want  to  fight,  Nancy. 
But,  after  all,  as  long  as  I  get  you,  the  way  does 
not  so  very  much  matter.  You  remember  Mrs. 
Lathrop,  do  you  not  —  where  you  spent  the  first 
night  after  —  after  they  took  you?  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Nancy.  "  Did  she  give  you 
my  note  ?  " 

'  Yes,  dear,"  I  said ;  "  she  gave  me  the  note,  and 


A  WORD  211 

yesterday  she  came  to  the  Hotel  Gloria  and  in- 
sisted on  coming  to  help  to  find  you.  She  thinks 
me  a  rather  helpless  individual,  I  am  afraid,  but  I 
have  a  vague  idea  that  she  really  can  help  us, 
Nancy.  I  do  not  know  how,  just  at  this  moment, 
but  perhaps  — " 

"  Hush,"  said  Nancy;  "  listen !  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  I  think  they  are  coming,  Mason, —  the  doctors, 
you  know.  You  must  go  at  once  and  go  carefully. 
Do  you  understand  ?  " 

I  heard  some  one  knock  at  the  door. 

"  You  are  going,  Mason  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  I  can,"  I  said,  "  when  the  watch- 
man's gone  by." 

Nancy's  little  hand  flashed  beneath  the  shade  for 
a  moment,  and  I  kissed  it.  "  Good  night,  dear,"  I 
said. 

"  Good  night,"  Nancy  whispered. 

The  knock  was  repeated  with  loud  insistence. 

"  Yes,"  Nancy  called.     "  Come  in." 

I  lowered  myself  a  foot  or  more,  so  that  my 
head  was  an  inch  or  two  below  the  level  of  the  sill, 
and  held  myself  close  against  the  wall,  for  I  thought 
that  I  heard  the  soft  footstep  of  the  watchman 
below. 

"  Well,  Miss  Bond,  how  do  you  find  yourself  this 
evening?  " 

The  voice  was  a  deep  one,  and  the  question  was 


212     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

rapped  out  with  the  brisk  assumption  of  cheeriness 
of  the  professional  man. 

"  I  am  quite  as  usual,"  I  heard  Nancy  answer 
gently. 

"  That's  good,  that's  good.  Delusion  beginning 
to  fade?" 

"  I  am  afraid  that  delusion,  as  you  call  it,"  Nancy 
answered,  "  will  never  fade.  Doctor  Mayhew,  what 
is  the  use  of  it?  You  can't  very  well  keep  me  here 
all  my  life,  and  I  warn  you  I  am  going  to  persist  in 
my  delusion." 

"  We  have  cured  worse  cases  than  yours,"  the 
doctor  answered  curtly. 

"  I  can  not  understand  it,"  Nancy  said. 

"  Understand  what  ?  " 

"  Why  you  should  be  here,  and  doing  this  sort  of 
thing,  Doctor  Mayhew.  That  you,  a  gentleman, 
should  have  fallen  on  such  evil  days;  that  you  can 
stoop  to  such  meannesses  as  this  present  one,  just 
for  a  little  money;  that  you  can  school  yourself  to 
persecute  a  lonely  girl,  for  a  few  hundred  dollars  or 
so.  Oh,  I  know  you  are  getting  rich  here,  but  is  it 
worth  all  that  you  are  giving  up,  Doctor  May- 
hew?" 

"  When  a  man  of  my  profession  falls  once,  he 
falls  for  good,"  was  the  doctor's  quite  unexpected 
answer. 

There  was  bitterness  and  shame  in  the  doctor's 
voice,  and  I  drew  myself  up  to  the  sill  again,  listen- 


A  WORD  213 

ing  intently;  for  perhaps  here  Nancy  herself  was 
finding  a  way,  a  peaceful  way  after  her  own  heart 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  she  answered.  "  I 
do  not  know  just  what  you  have  done;  but  a  man 
can  always  make  his  way  in  the  world,  if  he  is  will- 
ing to  try,  and  try  honestly.  That  is,  almost  always. 
Of  course,  if  you  make  one  slip  here,  if  a  single 
'  patient '  is  able  against  your  will  to  find  his  way 
back  to  the  world,  that  will  mean  state's  prison  for 
you,  Doctor  Mayhew.  And  state's  prison  for  such 
a  crime  as  this  means  the  end  of  opportunity.  You 
must  have  made  a  great  deal  of  money  already. 
Can't  you  give  this  place  up  while  you  are  still 
safe?" 

"  To  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  Miss  Bond," 
the  doctor  said,  "  I  wish  I  could,  but  that  is  harder 
than  you  innocently  suppose." 

As  I  have  it  here  in  black  and  white,  it  sounds 
impossible,  this  sudden  dropping  of  the  mask,  this 
almost  open  confession.  But  as  I  clung  listening 
outside  the  window,  there  seemed  nothing  strange 
about  it.  For  although  I  dared  not  look,  I  knew 
how  sweetly  Nancy  stood  before  him,  and  every  lit- 
tle tone  of  her  voice  thrilled  with  a  gentle  conviction 
and  charm  which  must,  I  thought,  have  moved  any 
man. 

But  another  knock  sounded  at  the  door.  Doctor 
Mayhew's  "  Come  in,"  was  once  more  incisively 
professional. 


214     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Good  evening,  Doctor  Morrison,"  I  heard  him 
say.  "  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Olsen.  I  am  sorry  not 
to  be  able  to  report  much  progress." 

I  caught  an  undertone  of  anger  in  the  words,  as 
if  the  man,  startled  from  a  dream,  repented  angrily 
his  moment  of  weakness. 

"  Delusion  still  continues  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so,"  said  Doctor  Mayhew.  "  What 
course  do  you  think  we  had  better  pursue,  Doctor 
Morrison  ?  " 

"  With  your  permission,"  said  Doctor  Morrison, 
"  I  should  like  a  few  minutes'  talk  alone  with  the 
patient,  before  I  come  to  a  decision." 

The  door  opened  and  closed,  and  for  a  moment 
there  was  silence. 

"  Still  stubborn  ?  "  the  unpleasant  voice  asked  at 
last 

"  I  shall  never  change  my  mind,"  Nancy  an- 
swered ;  "  you  ought  to  know  that." 

"  You  are  acting  like  a  fool,  Nancy.  Do  you 
honestly  think  you  are  married  ?  " 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  Nancy  an- 
swered quietly. 

"  It  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  You  are 
making  a  fool  of  yourself  for  this  man.  How  often 
must  I  tell  you  the  marriage  was  a  farce  and  Stevens 
a  common  jail-bird?  The  man  you  think  you  mar- 
ried isn't  any  better  than  he  is.  Even  you  know 
he  did  it  for  the  money  that  was  in  it.  Perhaps  it 


A  WORD  215 

would  interest  you  to  know,"  he  continued  in  rising 
anger,  "  that  the  scamp  has  laid  hands  on  all  the 
money  he  could,  and  that  yesterday  he  sailed  for 
Europe.  Your  hero  isn't  worth  your  heroics, 
Nancy." 

Nancy  laughed  softly. 

"  You've  always  been  a  liar,"  she  said. 

"  I  swear  that  is  true  at  least,"  he  replied.  "  I 
would  stake  my  life  on  it.  How  long  do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  be  patient?  I  want  to  marry  you,  and 
I  will  be  as  good  a  husband  as  any  man,  you  know 
that.  You  don't  suppose  that  I  am  going  to  wait 
for  ever.  After  all,  why  should  I  be  so  patient  with 
you?" 

"  Because,"  Nancy  said  softly,  "  because,  after 
all,  you  are  a  coward  and  very  careful  of  yourself; 
and  because,  really,  you  are  a  little  afraid  of  me. 
You  can't  keep  me  here  all  my  life.  I  know  that, 
and  so  do  you.  Sooner  or  later  I  will  get  back  to 
my  husband." 

Doctor  Morrison  laughed. 

"  My  husband,"  Nancy  repeated.  "  You  have 
felt  Mason  Ellsworth's  ringers  once.  I  do  not  think 
that  you  care  to  risk  death  again." 

"  Damn  your  husband !  "  he  said.  "  I'm  through 
with  this  foolishness.  I  give  you  one  more  day, 
Nancy.  We  have  an  easy  way  here  of  handling 
people  who  are  too  stubborn.  I  think  you  will 
marry  me  willingly  enough." 


216     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

He  stepped  across  to  the  door,  and  in  some  dis- 
tant corridor  I  heard  the  muffled  whir  of  an  electric 
bell.  I  raised  the  curtain  the  fraction  of  an  inch 
and  looked  into  the  room.  "  Doctor  Morrison  "  was 
standing  with  his  great  sloping  shoulders  hunched 
forward,  broad  hands  opening  and  shutting  in  ugly 
impatience,  beneath  his  long  nose  the  strange  baby 
mouth  worked  convulsively,  while  his  close-set  eyes, 
vicious  with  sullen  rage,  flickered  and  shifted  from 
Nancy's  head  to  her  feet,  never  quite  looking  into 
hers,  but  challenging  her  and  desiring  her.  Then 
as  the  door  opened : 

"  Doctor  Mayhew,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  I  find  that 
our  treatment  has  so  far  been  a  failure.  We  will 
wait  till  to-morrow,  and  then,  if  there  is  no  change, 
Miss  Bond  is  to  be  moved  to  the  dark  room.  Do 
you  understand  me  ?  " 

Doctor  Mayhew,  a  stout,  florid  young  man  of 
about  thirty-five,  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  yellow 
hair. 

"  Do  —  do  you  think  that  is  necessary  ?  "  he  stam- 
mered. 

"  Quite,"  the  other  snapped ;  "  and  Mrs.  Olsen, 
you  are  to  sleep  here  to-night." 

"  Very  well,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Olsen,  who  was 
evidently  the  nurse  Mrs.  Lathrop  detested  so  much. 

Nancy  sighed  and  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed. 

Doctor  Mayhew  had  already  left.     "  Morrison  " 


A  WORD  217 

stood  in  the  door,  a  smile  working  at  his  baby 
mouth. 

"  Good  night,  Miss  Bond,"  he  said. 

Nancy  did  not  answer,  and  still  smiling,  he  went 
out,  shutting  the  door  behind  him. 


XXII 

THE  DOCTORS 

BECAUSE  I  had  promised  Nancy,  I  climbed 
down  the  ivy  again,  as  softly  as  I  could,  and 
gained  the  road  unobserved.  But  it  was  the  most 
difficult  restraint  that  I  ever  put  upon  myself.  If 
I  could  have  had  my  way  I  should,  at  least,  have 
tried  to  tear  away  the  iron  grating  from  the  win- 
dow, and  to  fight  my  way  down-stairs  and  through 
the  sanatorium,  and  perhaps  be  able  to  lay  my  hands 
upon  Doctor  Morrison.  I  was  sure  that,  once  in  the 
room,  I  would  have  been  able  to  take  Nancy  away 
with  me.  But  Nancy  wished  me  to  use  other  means 
if  I  could,  and,  as  far  as  I  was  able,  I  was  determined 
to  try  them.  My  own  way,  after  all,  was  a  selfish 
one,  and  inspired  for  the  most  part  by  a  lust  for 
fighting  that  was  growing  on  me  daily.  But  Nancy 
was  right;  fighting  should  only  be  a  last  resort. 
For  it  was  even  possible  that  Nancy  herself  might 
come  to  some  harm  in  that  seething  turmoil  my  soul 
so  longed  for. 

I  found  Mrs.  Lathrop  pacing  about  her  little  sit- 
ting-room at  the  hotel. 

218 


THE  DOCTORS  219 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  as  I  opened  the  door,  "  I  was  be- 
ginning to  get  a  little  worried.  I  never  did  see  time 
go  so  slowly." 

"  I  had  to  wait  for  dark,"  I  explained. 

"  Did  you  see  her?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lathrop. 

'  Yes,"  I  said,  and  told  her  all  my  adventure. 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  said 
Mrs.  Lathrop.  "  It  looks  to  me  as  if  it  would  be 
pretty  hard  to  get  any  one  out  of  a  sanatorium  that's 
barred  and  locked  up,  without  using  force." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  I  can  do,"  I  admitted. 
"  The  only  plan  I've  been  able  to  think  of  so  far 
is  to  go  up  and  ask  to  see  the  doctor,  and  when  I 
see  him,  tie  him  up  and  take  his  keys  away  from 
him." 

"Do  you  call  that  not  using  force?"  Mrs.  La- 
throp asked. 

I  smiled  rather  sheepishly. 

"  Of  course  that's  only  tentative,"  I  said,  "  and  it 
wouldn't  take  very  much  force.  That  Doctor  May- 
hew  looks  pretty  soft  to  me." 

"  Still,  I  don't  think  that  was  Mrs.  Ellsworth's 
idea  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  I  admitted.  "  What  have  you  to 
suggest  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lathrop  shook  her  head. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  she  said;  "I'll  think 
a  little  while." 

So  for  half  an  hour  we  sat  in  silence.     Once  or 


220     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

twice  I  started  to  speak,  but  Mrs.  Lathrop  waved 
me  abstractedly  away. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  have  it." 

"Well?"  I  asked. 

"  I'm  crazy,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop  complacently. 

"  You're  what  ?  "  I  stammered. 

"  Crazy.  At  least,  I'm  not,  but  you  say  I  am. 
Listen,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  I'm  your  aunt,  just  as  we 
told  them  here  at  the  hotel,  and  I'm  dreadful  rich 
and  you're  a  scamp;  that  is,  you've  got  to  manage 
to  look  like  one,  although,  dear  knows,  that's  the 
weakest  part  of  it.  The  rest  is  all  easy  enough. 
You  take  me  in  a  cab  up  to  that  sanatorium,  and 
ring  the  bell  and  go  in  with  me.  You'll  hold  me 
by  the  wrist,  you  know,  and  I'll  drag  back."  Mrs. 
Lathrop's  eyes  snapped  with  the  joy  of  the  prospec- 
tive drama.  "  And  when  we're  in  the  office,  you 
ask  to  have  the  door  locked,  so  that  I  can't  get 
away.  Then  you  pull  the  doctor  over  to  one  side 
and  tell  him  about  it.  Say  you  want  to  leave  me 
there  indefinitely.  Course  he  needn't  believe  I'm 
crazy  at  all,  but  what  he  has  got  to  believe  is  just 
as  hard,  maybe  harder,  for  I'm  a  good  actor  and 
you're  not;  and  that  is,  that  you're  a  wicked  young 
man,  and  are  putting  me  out  of  the  way,  so  that 
you  can  declare  me  incompetent,  and  use  my  money, 
or  something  like  that.  Money's  got  to  come  into 
it  somehow.  It's  the  only  thing,  I  guess,  those 
people  up  there  understand." 


THE  DOCTORS  221 

"  But,"  I  protested,  "what  good  would  that  do? 
Suppose  I  could  manage  to  leave  you  there,  what 
then?  They'd  only  lock  you  up  in  one  of  those 
rooms.  You  couldn't  do  anything,  and  then  I'd 
just  have  two  people  to  get  out  instead  of  one." 

"Well,  that's  just  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop. 
"  Most  of  those  poor  people  there  have  naturally 
been  left  without  a  cent  of  money.  You  aren't 
going  to  be  that  mean  to  me.  In  fact,  I  guess  you'd 
better  give  me  about  all  the  money  you've  got.  I 
figure  it  out  that  any  nurse  or  maid  who  is  wicked 
enough  to  work  there  at  all  would  be  wicked  enough 
to  make  four  or  five  hundred  dollars,  if  it  was  cash 
in  hand,  and  she  saw  a  way  of  doing  it  easy.  Then, 
as  soon  as  I  have  bought  one  of  those  maids,  I'll 
fix  it  so  that  she  lets  me  out  and  Mrs.  Ellsworth 
too,  and  all  you'll  have  to  do  is  to  wait  outside  and 
meet  us.  I'll  fix  it  to  get  a  message  to  you  some- 
how." 

"Well,  there's  another  trouble,"  I  said;  "a 
trouble  I  don't  see  how  we  can  get  around;  that 
Doctor  Morrison,  as  he  calls  himself,  would  recog- 
nize us  both  in  a  minute." 

"  I've  thought  of  that,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  We'll  just 
have  to  choose  some  time  when  Doctor  Morrison 
isn't  there.  Unless  I'm  pretty  much  mistaken,  Doc- 
tor Morrison  isn't  connected  with  the  place  at  all. 
They  just  let  him  hang  around  and  call  himself  a 
doctor  because  he's  paid  them  a  lot  of  money. 


222     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

There's  only  one  patient  he  takes  any  interest  in, 
or  is  a  doctor  for.  I  don't  see  why  they  take  the 
trouble  to  pretend  that  much,  unless  it's  because 
they've  pretended  so  long,  they  couldn't  do  a  thing 
straight  if  they  tried.  No,  sir,  we'll  just  wait 
until  he's  away  from  the  place  and  down  here  in 
the  village  somewhere,  and  the  rest  will  go  as  slick 
as  a  goose's  neck.  Well,  what  are  you  shaking 
your  head  about  now  ?  " 

"  The  nurse,  Mrs.  Olsen,"  I  answered  gloomily. 

"  See  here,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  jumping  up  in 
disgust,  "  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  never  did  see  such 
a  young  man  to  find  fault.  We'll  just  have  to  risk 
that  woman.  I  don't  believe  that,  by  the  build  of 
her,  they  let  her  take  care  of  any  but  the  '  violents.' 
The  trouble  with  you  is  that  you  want  to  do  this 
thing  all  yourself." 

I  flushed;  for  although  I  had  not  recognized  it, 
my  feeling  had  been  that  I  was  playing  a  rather 
small  part  in  the  affair,  that  I  would  have  to  eat 
my  heart  out  in  idleness  while  this  little  woman  did 
the  dangerous  work. 

"  Oh,  it's  perfectly  natural,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop. 
"  A  young  man  going  after  the  lady  he  loves  always 
wants  to  run  into  danger  and  hit  people  and  make 
a  terrible  time.  That's  the  only  reason  there  ever 
were  knights,  I  guess.  But  you  take  my  advice, 
Mr.  Ellsworth.  You  get  the  young  lady  safely 
home  first,  and  then  you  can  go  back  and  do  the 


THE  DOCTORS  223 

hitting  and  knight  part  of  it  afterward.  You  go 
to  bed  now,  and  try  to  wake  up  feeling  like  my 
scoundrelly  nephew.  Of  course,  if  you  can  think 
of  any  better  scheme  before  morning,  why,  I'm 
perfectly  willing  to  try  it,  but  if  you  can't,  I  think 
we  ought  to  try  this  one.  And  I'm  sure  that  neither 
of  us  can  rest  easy  until  we  get  her  out  of  there." 

And  although  I  tossed  half  the  night  racking 
my  brains,  Mrs.  Lathrop  was  right,  I  could  think  of 
no  better  scheme. 

"  The  only  trouble,"  Mrs.  Lathrop  said,  as  I 
met  her  at  breakfast,  "  is  that  we've  got  to  be  sure 
when  that  Doctor  Morrison  is  away.  We'll  have  to 
spell  each  other  watching  at  the  window  for  him. 
You  watch,  while  1  write  to  my  sister;  then  I'll 
take  a  turn,  while  you  write  to  that  Mr.  Ogilby. 
You've  a  lot  to  tell  him,  and  you've  got  to  keep 
your  promise  to  him,  you  know,  particularly  as 
we're  just  going  to  spend  so  much  of  his  money. 
I'm  writing  to  my  sister,  just  to  make  sure  of 
things.  I've  got  to  tell  her  something  about  it; 
but  you  needn't  be  afraid;  she  isn't  one  of  those 
newsy  women.  If  I  tell  her  not  to  talk  about  a 
thing,  she  won't.  It  occurred  to  me  last  night, 
Mr.  Ellsworth,  after  I'd  got  the  light  out,  that 
you  and  I  ought  to  do  this  as  carefully  as  we  can. 
I  don't  mean  that  I  was  the  least  mite  scared,  but 
something  might  happen  not  according  to  schedule, 
and  it's  just  as  well  to  have  some  one  know  where 


224     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

we  are,  in  case  we  should  suddenly  disappear.  So 
I'm  going  to  write  her  that  unless  she  hears  from 
me  again  in  a  couple  of  days,  she's  to  come  on  here 
with  all  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men 
(which  is  poetry  for  the  governor's),  and  split 
that  Humpty-dumpty,  wooden  castle  into  kindling 
wood." 

This  was  a  precaution  the  wisdom  of  which  I 
could  not  gainsay,  so  that  I  watched  while  Mrs. 
Lathrop  wrote,  and  when  she  relieved  me,  incor- 
porated something  of  the  same  idea  in  my  letter  to 
Mr.  Ogilby.  Then  I  posted  both  our  letters,  and 
ordered  the  hotel's  only  closed  carriage  to  be  ready 
and  waiting  for  instant  call;  which  mysterious  pro- 
ceeding I  think  the  hotel  proprietor  put  down  to 
metropolitan  eccentricity,  an  eccentricity  which 
justified  one  of  his  own  in  making  out  our  bill. 

We  had  not  very  long  to  wait  before  Doctor  Mor- 
rison came  striding  down  the  street,  as  gloomily 
truculent  as  when  we  first  saw  him.  We  watched 
him  well  out  of  sight,  then  hurried  down  and  out 
to  our  carriage  and  started  for  the  sanatorium. 

There  was  distinct  disapproval  in  our  driver's 
face  as  I  gave  him  the  order,  and  he  answered 
me  with  a  nod  of  surly  contempt,  which  almost 
made  me  feel  the  rascal  I  was  pretending  to  be. 
Nevertheless,  he  whipped  up  his  horses,  and  we 
jogged  on  our  way  to  the  sanatorium  with  all  the 
brisk  abandon  of  a  pauper  funeral. 


THE  DOCTORS  225 

My  ring  was  not  answered  for  some  time,  and  I 
think  that  we  were  well  scrutinized  before  the  door 
at  length  swung  open,  revealing  to  my  thankful  eyes, 
not  the  burly  Mrs.  Olsen,  but  a  bearded  and  still 
more  burly  janitor. 

"  May  I  see  Doctor  Mayhew?  "  I  asked. 

The  man  grunted  and  ushered  us  into  a  com- 
fortable little  office  at  the  head  of  the  dark  hall. 
There  were  a  few  minutes  more  of  waiting,  then 
Doctor  Mayhew  came  briskly  in,  looking  rosy  and 
cheerfully  professional. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  what  can  I  do  for  you?  " 

I  glanced  at  Mrs.  Lathrop,  and  with  half  an 
apology,  stepped  over  and  locked  the  door,  and  drew 
the  doctor  aside. 

"  Doctor  Mayhew,"  I  began,  in  the  best  manner  I 
could  muster,  "  you've  been  recommended  to  me 
by  some  friends  of  mine  in  New  York.  You'll  for- 
give me  if  I  mention  no  names.  But  you  will 
recognize  them,  I  am  quite  sure,  when  I  tell  you 
that  you  have  under  treatment  an  old  gentleman 
who—" 

Doctor  Mayhew  nodded. 

"  Quite  so,"  he  said,  "  quite  so."  Then  bending 
to  my  ear,  "  Fulson  ?  "  he  whispered. 

In  turn  I  nodded  affirmation.  "  I  have  there- 
fore," I  continued,  "brought  my  aunt  to  you  for 
treatment, —  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Lathrop.  Did  I  tell 
you  that  my  name  was  John  Lathrop  ?  " 


226     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"What  seems  to  be  the  trouble?"  asked  Doctor 
Mayhew,  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  really  cared. 

"  She's  been  acting  very  strangely  of  late,"  I  said; 
"  very  strangely." 

"  What  should  you  say  was  the  distinctive  char- 
acteristic ?  " 

I  saw  that  Mrs.  Lathrop  was  watching  me  and 
that  she  was  quite  well  able  to  overhear  our  con- 
versation. "  She  has  been  showing  of  late,"  I  said 
maliciously,  "  an  unaccountable  desire  to  start  on 
sudden  journeys." 

"  Hum,"  said  Doctor  Mayhew  reflectively. 

"And,"  I  continued,  "a  certain  reckless  disre- 
gard of  money,  which  she  seems  perfectly  willing 
to  intrust  to  people  that  have  really  no  claim  on 
her.  As  her  nearest  relative  and  heir  — " 

"  Mr.  Lathrop,  I  quite  understand,"  said  Doctor 
Mayhew,  and  it  was  quite  evident  that  he  did.  For 
at  the  word  "  money  "  his  eyebrows  had  gone  up, 
and  whatever  doubt  I  had  read  between  his  eyes 
disappeared  at  the  magical  sound.  He  felt  himself 
at  once  on  a  firm  footing. 

While  we  were  talking,  Mrs.  Lathrop  had  crept 
stealthily  to  the  door,  and  now  fumbled  at  the 
lock  with  a  histrionic  furtiveness  that  won  my 
deepest  admiration. 

"  Careful,"  I  said. 

Doctor  Mayhew  whirled  at  the  word  and,  crossing 
the  little  office  almost  at  a  stride,  dragged  the  re- 


THE  DOCTORS  227 

luctant  Mrs.  Lathrop  back  to  her  chair  and  put 
the  key  in  his  pocket;  then,  with  a  glance  at  me, 
he  drew  another  chair  in  front  of  her,  and  sitting 
down,  put  her  a  few  idiotically  simple  questions, 
none  of  which  Mrs.  Lathrop  answered,  save  to 
moan  in  as  many  different  keys,  "  I  am  not  crazy," 
until  I  trembled  between  anxiety  and  almost  irre- 
pressible laughter. 

Doctor  Mayhew  sighed.  "  Very  sad  case,  sir," 
he  said,  turning  to  me,  while  Mrs.  Lathrop  threw  me 
a  kiss  over  his  shoulder.  "  You  have  my  deepest 
sympathy,  sir.  You  say  this  poor  lady  has  a  great 
fortune?" 

And  following  the  silent  motion  of  Mrs. 
Lathrop's  lips: 

"  Only  a  million  or  so,"  I  answered.  Then  as 
an  afterthought,  "  Of  course  I  have  been  unable, 
as  yet,  to  determine  its  exact  extent.  As  you  are 
probably  aware,  this  can  not  be  done  until  she  has 
been  declared  mentally  incompetent,  and  I  have  been 
appointed  her  legal  guardian." 

Doctor  Mayhew  looked  at  me  shrewdly. 

"  It  will  be  a  very  difficult  case,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  can  not  promise  you  that  she  will  ever  quite  re- 
gain her  faculties.  For  cases  of  this  sort,  need- 
ing such  a  variety  of  treatment,  our  uniform  charge 
is  six  thousand  dollars  a  year." 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  "you  shall  have  the  first 
month  in  advance  to-morrow,  by  which  time,  I 


228     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

suppose,  you  will  have  the  necessary  papers  made 
out." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and,  by  the  way,  no 
checks,  please.  Doctor  Carleton,  my  colleague,  has 
an  aversion  to  checks,  and  we  find  that,  in  general, 
our  clients  themselves  prefer  currency." 

"  Very  well,"  I  agreed,  as  gravely  as  I  could, 
for  Mrs.  Lathrop  had  suddenly  straightened  her- 
self from  an  attitude  of  trance-like  vacancy,  and 
had  started  making  a  rabbit  of  her  handkerchief. 
I  was  in  terror  as  to  the  lengths  to  which  her 
eager  conscientiousness  might  carry  her. 

"Of  course,  you  will  give  my  aunt  a  good  room 
and  proper  attendance,"  I  said,  "  and  if  you  will 
take  a  word  of  advice  from  me,  Doctor,  you  will 
see  that  the  maid  who  waits  on  her  has  dark  hair. 
She  has  a  particular  aversion  to  blondes." 

At  this,  Mrs.  Lathrop  clapped  her  hands  in  noise- 
less admiration;  for,  in  spite  of  her  pretended  care- 
lessness and  really  wonderful  courage,  I  think  that, 
at  heart,  the  thought  of  the  grim  Mrs.  Olsen 
troubled  her. 

"  We  have  just  the  person,"  said  Doctor  Mayhew. 
"I  am  very  glad  that  you  brought  the  matter  up. 
Five  hundred  dollars  to-morrow,  then,  Mr. 
Lathrop." 

''  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  bring  it 
with  me." 


THE  DOCTORS  229 

Doctor  Mayhevv  unlocked  the  door,  and  touched 
the  bell  for  the  janitor. 

"  Let  me  know  of  Mr.  Lathrop's  arrival  to-mor- 
row immediately,"  he  said.  "  Come,  Mrs.  Lathrop, 
I  want  to  show  you  a  pretty  room  in  this  hotel." 

"  Boo,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  and  shot  the  rabbit 
into  his  face. 


XXIII 

A   LETTER 

WE  had  arranged  that  Mrs.  Lathrop  should  let 
me  know  her  room  by  raising  and  lower- 
ing her  shade  after  dark,  when  I  could  watch  the 
sanatorium  without  risk  of  discovery;  and  that  I 
was  to  climb  the  ivy,  as  I  had  on  the  previous 
night,  and  hear  her  report  of  progress.  It  was 
the  best  plan  that  we  had  been  able  to  devise  and 
in  practice  I  found  it  most  unsatisfactory;  the 
greatest  objection  being  that  I  had  to  wait  in  idle- 
ness through  all  the  daylight  hours,  and  either 
keep  to  my  room,  or  assume  an  almost  impossible 
calm  in  public.  After  an  hour  or  so,  I  chose  my 
room  and  chose  it  thankfully. 

It  is  a  very  easy  thing  to  fight  and  a  very  diffi- 
cult thing  to  wait  for  the  battle.  People  in  the 
hotel,  I  found,  looked  at  me  askance;  my  driver, 
who  had  driven  out  with  two  and  come  back  with 
one,  had  probably  spread  the  tidings  of  where  the 
other  had  been  left,  so  that  I  gradually  found 
myself  feeling  like  a  scoundrel,  after  the  need  to 
pose  as  one  had  passed.  Neither  could  I  forget 
the  mention  of  that  "  dark  room,"  with  which  he 

230 


A  LETTER  231 

of  the  brown  derby  had  threatened  Nancy.  Mrs. 
Lathrop  had  promised  to  try  to  get  some  word  to 
her,  so  that  she  might  feign  some  thought  of  ac- 
quiescence, and  put  off  further  torture  until  the 
opportunity  came  to  set  her  altogether  beyond  its 
reach.  But  in  my  loneliness  I  was  filled  with  a 
growing  dread  that  something  might  go  wrong, 
that  Mrs.  Lathrop  would  not  only  be  unable  to  send 
word  to  Nancy,  but  she  herself  might  be  recog- 
nized by  Mrs.  Olsen,  and  our  whole  scheme  come 
tottering  to  earth.  But,  come  what  might,  I  de- 
termined grimly  that  neither  Nancy  nor  Mrs. 
Lathrop  should  pass  more  than  one  more  night 
there,  if  I  had  to  fight  the  whole  sanatorium  force 
to  get  them  out. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  just  as  I 
was  planning  to  wear  the  edge  from  my  nervousness 
by  a  long  walk  in  the  country,  a  knock  came  at  my 
door,  and  I  opened  it  to  admit  a  frowsy,  bare- 
footed urchin,  who  stared  at  me  a  long  time  curi- 
ously, and  then  asked  me  my  name. 

"  John  Lathrop,"  he  repeated ;  "  that's  right ; 
that's  the  right  name,"  and  he  dragged  out  of  his 
pocket  a  bulky  envelope,  almost  as  frowsy  as  him- 
self. "  My  sister  give  me  this,"  he  said,  "  and 
said  to  hand  it  to  you,  but  she  didn't  pay  me 
nothin'  for  bringing  it." 

I  sent  him  away  gaping  round-eyed  at  a  new 
dollar  bill,  and  locking  the  door,  tore  open  the 


232     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

envelope  with  trembling  fingers.  It  was  written 
in  a  fine,  formal,  little,  old-fashioned  hand,  and 
I  needed  no  glance  at  the  signature  to  know  that 
it  was  from  Mrs.  Lathrop.  She  had  dated  it  irre- 
pressibly  "  The  Fake  Loony-house,  May  I2th  and 
all  well." 

"  MY  SCOUNDRELLY  BUT  DEAR  NEPHEW  : 

"  In  the  first  place,  everything  is  going  to  come  out 
all  right.  In  the  second  place,  you're  a  pretty  poor 
actor  but  a  little  better  than  I  expected.  In  the  third 
place,  I  would  have  been  having  the  most  beautiful 
time  of  my  life,  if  I  weren't  so  sorry  for  all  the 
other  people  here.  When  you  had  gone,  that  pink 
young  Doctor  Mayhew  led  me  up-stairs  to  see  the 
'  pretty  room '  he  spoke  of,  and  when  we  got 
there,  he  just  opened  the  door,  gave  me  a  shove  in, 
and  turned  the  lock  on  the  outside.  If  he'd  had 
his  first  month's  instalment,  I  guess  he  would  have 
kicked  me  in,  and  I  love  to  think  of  what  is  going 
to  happen  to  him  some  day.  Just  the  same,  I 
was  pretty  glad  to  get  to  my  room;  for  all  the 
way  through  those  long  halls,  my  knees  were 
knocking  together  for  fear  we'd  meet  that  blonde 
nurse,  you  said  so  truly,  and  with  such  presence 
of  mind,  that  I  did  not  like.  And,  till  my  own 
maid  came,  I  kept  on  being  pretty  scared;  for,  of 
course,  I  knew  that  the  doctor's  promises  did  not 
mean  much  of  anything,  and  that  he  was  just  as 
apt  to  send  in  Mrs.  Olsen  if  she  came  handy. 


A  LETTER 


233 


"  Don't  be  afraid  I  am  writing  you  too  much, 
for  I  have  a  nice,  new  bottle  of  ink  and  a  whole  box 
of  paper. 

"  Well,  pretty  soon  the  door  opened,  and  my 
maid  did  come  in.  She  is  a  nice-looking,  thinnish 
girl  of  about  thirty,  I  should  say,  and  she  was 
real  kind  to  me  even  before  I  spoke  of  money.  I 
kept  her  talking  as  long  as  I  could,  and  worked 
around  to  our  plan  gradually.  First,  I  offered  her 
fifty  dollars  for  getting  this  note  out  of  the  hospital 
and  things  to  write  it  with.  She  laughed,  at  first, 
and  I  guess  she  didn't  think  I  had  the  money;  but 
when  I  counted  ten  fives  off  that  big  roll,  she 
stopped  laughing  and  took  them  quick  enough. 

"  It's  a  mystery  to  me,  Nephew  John,  what  queer 
people  go  to  make  up  a  world.  Here  was  a  young 
woman  with  a  good  heart  and  pretty  tender  feel- 
ings, who  just  because  she  needed  money  for 
somebody  else,  was  willing  to  do  almost  anything 
to  get  it.  I've  had  a  long  talk  with  her,  and  I 
find  her  hard  to  understand.  She  was  born  near 
this  place  and  knew  all  about  it,  yet,  knowing  what 
she  did,  she  came  here  to  work.  She  couldn't 
make  enough  money  anywhere  else,  she  said.  She 
has  four  or  five  little  brothers  and  sisters  and  the 
regular  useless  mother  and  father,  so  that  I  sup- 
pose there  is  some  excuse  for  her.  Yet  it  does 
seem  queer  that  such  a  nice  girl  should  be  in  such 
a  business.  It  was  she,  John,  who  mailed  you 


234     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

another  letter  you  know  of,  and  she  did  that,  not 
for  money,  but  for  love;  for,  from  all  I  could  find 
out,  she  just  about  worships  your  Nancy.  When 
I  told  her  why  I  was  there  and  what  we  were 
going  to  do,  she  took  the  rest  of  the  money,  to  be 
sure,  because  she  said  she  needed  it  and  stood  a 
pretty  good  chance  of  losing  her  position,  but  she 
is  as  enthusiastic  as  can  be  about  the  work  I 
have  set  her  to  do.  I  think  that  perhaps  she  might 
have  done  it  for  nothing,  but  I  did  not  quite  have 
the  heart  to  ask  her,  nor  did  I  quite  dare  to  run 
the  risk.  She  loves  your  young  lady,  but,  after 
all,  she  loves  money  first;  and  when  we  give  her 
a  chance  to  follow  her  own  inclination,  and  at  the 
same  time  get  paid  for  it,  I  think  that  we  may  be 
pretty  sure  that  she  will  do  her  work  well. 

"Of  course  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  send  her 
in  to  Nancy,  to  tell  her  I  was  here  and  that  we  were 
going  to  get  her  away  as  soon  as  possible,  so  that 
she  was  not  on  any  account  to  let  that '  Doctor  Mor- 
rison '  get  mad  enough  to  put  her  in  the  '  dark 
room.'  Then  I  arranged  the  rest  of  the  plan  with 
her,  the  nurse,  I  mean. 

"  There  isn't  any  use  at  all,  as  far  as  I  can  see, 
of  either  of  us  poor  women  staying  here,  while 
you  batten  at  the  hotel.  To-night  seems  to  me  as 
good  a  time  as  any.  There's  only  just  one  trouble, 
and  that  is  —  that  this  maid  or  nurse  of  ours, 
or  whatever  you  want  to  call  her,  has  no  business 


A  LETTER  235 

on  our  floor  at  ten  o'clock,  so  that  she  is  afraid 
to  come  up  and  let  us  out.  After  nine  her  work 
is  all  down-stairs,  where,  I  believe,  she  does  some 
clerking  for  the  doctors;  and  she  is  afraid  that 
if  she  is  gone  long  enough  to  come  up  and  unlock 
our  doors,  one  of  the  doctors  would  miss  her 
-  even  if  she  did  not  happen  to  run  into  Mrs. 
Olsen.  She  says  the  best  she  can  do  is  to  unlock 
the  front  door,  because  it  would  only  take  her  a 
minute  to  slip  out  of  the  office  and  do  that;  but 
I  told  her  that  was  all  right  and  that  that  would 
do  finely.  You  see,  you  are  going  to  have  some 
hard  work  after  all. 

"  We  are  arranging  for  as  late  as  ten  o'clock, 
because,  of  course,  it  has  to  be  after  dark,  and  Doc- 
tor Morrison  comes  in  the  evening,  and  we  can't  be 
sure  of  his  going  away  before  then. 

"  So,  Nephew  John,  if  you  love  us  (and  I  am 
sure  that  you  do) ,  like  the  hero  of  the  old  romances, 
you  are  to  be  at  the  door  as  the  clock  strikes  ten. 
Be  careful  to  be  exact  about  the  time,  for  the  door 
will  be  unlocked  then,  and  every  minute  that  it 
remains  unlocked  will  add  to  the  danger  of  sus- 
picion or  discovery.  Our  little  mercenary  is  going 
to  set  her  watch  by  the  six  o'clock  whistle  this 
evening,  and  you  had  better  do  the  same,  so  that 
the  two  time-pieces  may  tick  as  one. 

"  The  hardest  thing  you  will  have  to  do,  once 
you  are  inside,  is  to  get  past  the  office,  which,  as 


236     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

you  know,  opens  on  to  the  hall,  almost  directly  at 
its  entrance.  She  is  going  to  try  to  close  the  office 
door,  if  she  can,  but  she  is  not  sure  that  she  can 
do  it;  for  it  is  usually  left  open,  and  any  little  vari- 
ants from  custom  excite  suspicion  in  a  place  where 
people  have  long  grown  into  the  habit  of  looking 
over  their  shoulders.  Nevertheless,  even  if  the 
office  door  is  open,  I  am  sure  you  will  manage  to 
get  past ;  and  once  past,  save  for  a  chance  encounter, 
the  rest  will  be  pretty  plain  sailing.  My  room  is 
on  the  second  floor,  as  is  Nancy's,  and  is  two  doors 
from  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  four  from  hers, 
which  is,  as  you  know,  at  the  end  of  the  corridor. 
You  go  right  down  and  get  her  first,  and  you  both 
can  stop  for  me  on  the  way  back. 

"  If  you  should  run  into  that  Mrs.  Olsen,  you 
had  better  just  choke  her,  for  she  isn't  worth  saving. 
Of  course,  you  know,  I  don't  want  you  to  kill  her; 
only  you  should  take  precautions  against  her 
screaming,  and  it  wouldn't  hurt  any  if  you  put  some 
margins  on  them.  It  won't  be  much  loss  to  the 
world  if  she  isn't  able  to  lie  for  two  or  three 
days.  Seriously,  we  must  do  something  about  this 
place  when  we  are  all  well  away  from  here.  I  was 
having  a  very  good  time,  as  you  saw,  when  I  came 
in,  and  I  thought  that  we  were  very  clever,  and 
that,  for  once,  I  was  having  an  adventure  worth 
the  having,  but  the  woman  in  the  room  next  to 
mine  has  been  sobbing  all  the  morning,  and  the 


A  LETTER  237 

fun  has  worn  off  things.  I  have  always  had  my 
doubts  about  an  actual  hell,  but  I  shan't  have  any 
more.  There  must  be  some  place  further  on,  where 
devils  who  make  hells  on  earth  can  come  into  their 
own  at  last. 

"  Don't  kill  anybody,  John,  but  don't  be  afraid 
of  hurting  anybody  that  tries  to  stop  you ;  whatever 
you  do  to  them  won't  be  half  what  they  deserve. 
"  I  remain,  ever  your  affectionate 

"AUNT  SALLY." 


XXIV 

THE  ATTEMPT 

I  MADE  but  few  preparations.  First  of  all,  I 
looked  up  the  telegraph  office  and  telegraphed 
my  friend  the  hotel  clerk  to  mail  me  the  rest  of 
my  money,  so  that  I  could  get  it  the  next  day  at 
my  present  lodgings.  Then  I  wrote  a  long  letter 
to  Mr.  Ogilby;  and,  last  of  all,  I  bought  a  little 
pot  of  phosphorus  from  the  local  chemist,  with 
which  I  smeared  the  face  of  the  cheap  watch  I 
had  bought  to  replace  the  one  taken  from  me  in 
the  park.  It  stained  the  white  cardboard  face  badly ; 
but  I  left  it  in  the  sun  for  an  hour,  and  was  pretty 
sure  it  would  glow  sufficiently  after  real  darkness 
had  come  to  show  me  the  time.  About  twilight  I 
started  for  the  sanatorium. 

This  time  I  left  the  road  as  soon  as  the  sanatorium 
was  in  sight,  and,  making  a  long  circle  across  the 
fields,  came  to  my  former  hiding-place  in  such  a 
way  that  I  was  pretty  sure  that  I  was  not  seen.  As 
I  settled  myself  down  to  wait  I  saw  a  dim  face  in 
the  window  I  took  to  be  Mrs.  Lathrop's,  and  could 
scarcely  forbear  making  some  sort  of  signal  to  her; 
for  in  the  gathering  dusk  the  hideous  old  building 

238 


THE  ATTEMPT  239 

seemed  more  forbidding  than  ever,  and  Mrs. 
Lathrop's  courage  and  unselfishness  came  over  me 
in  new  realization.  I  would  have  given  a  good 
deal  to  have  told  her  that  I  was  there,  to  have  lent 
some  reassurance  and  relieve  in  a  measure  the  anx- 
iety, that  I  now  realized  for  the  first  time,  she  could 
not  help  but  feel.  But,  of  course,  I  dared  make  no 
sign,  and  only  crouched  the  closer  in  my  ambush. 

It  was  getting  very  dark  indeed,  and  already  one 
or  two  windows  had  been  lighted  and  the  curtains 
drawn,  and  I  was  watching  for  a  flash  in  the  corner 
room  that  might  give  me  a  glimpse  of  Nancy,  when 
some  slight  sound  or  prescience  made  me  turn  my 
head.  I  looked  up  to  see  the  dim  figure  of  a  man, 
a  figure  that  had  already  left  the  road,  and  that  was 
making  steadily  and  stealthily  for  the  clump  of 
bushes  behind  which  I  lay  concealed.  Naturally  my 
first  thought  was  that  I  had  been  seen,  and  that  this 
was  one  of  the  watchmen  who  came  to  put  the  mat- 
ter beyond  any  further  doubt  by  investigating  my 
hiding-place. 

Still  crouching,  I  got  my  feet  under  me,  that  I 
might  be  ready  for  whatever  should  chance.  Per- 
haps, after  all,  this  was  not  the  watchman  but  some 
farmer  taking  a  familiar  cut  across  lots,  or  a  tramp 
in  search  of  a  comfortable  hay-mow;  so  that  as  he 
came  nearer,  I  moved  slightly  so  as  to  keep  the 
clump  of  bushes  between  us.  To  my  surprise  the 
man  came  directly  to  the  spot  where  I  had  lain,  and 


240     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

without  further  search  settled  himself  in  the  hollow 
of  crushed  grass  that  must  still  have  been  warm 
from  my  body.  Either  he  was  not  the  watchman 
or,  if  he  was,  he  had  discovered  me,  or  some  signs 
of  me,  on  the  night  before,  and  now  was  waiting 
until  I  should  come.  I  flattened  myself  down  on 
my  side  of  the  bushes,  for  I  heard  a  twig  snap  un- 
der his  hand,  and  saw  the  branches  stir.  This  man, 
too,  was  watching  either  the  road  or  the  sanatorium. 
It  is  a  strange  thing  to  lie  in  the  dark  within  a 
few  feet  of  another  human  being,  who  does  not 
realize  your  presence,  a  being  whose  every  thought 
is,  for  all  you  know,  to  await  your  coming  and  do 
you  injury.  Strange  little  pricking  fires  ran  over 
me,  wave  after  wave,  and  my  tense  muscles  twitched, 
as  I  have  seen  the  muscles  of  a  dog  as  he  stood  tense 
at  some  unknown  sound ;  and  I  found  that,  although 
I  was  not  afraid,  I  was  fiercely  angry  with  a  sort  of 
primal  apprehension,  astir  with  a  fierce  lust  of  en- 
counter, utterly  primitive,  the  sheer  immutable  her- 
itage of  jungle-cradled  man.  I  was  holding  my  arm 
over  my  face,  partly  that  no  light  or  shade  might 
show  against  the  gathering  gloom,  and  partly  that 
no  sound  of  my  breathing  might  come  to  the  other 
watcher's  ears;  for  to  mine  each  uncertain  catch  of 
his  breath  came  plainly;  when  I  heard  a  little  sound 
which  startled  me  more  than  could  have  any  thun- 
der-clap, a  sound  that  I  knew  well,  half  muffled  yet 
sweetly  clear,  the  well-known  chiming  of  my  own 


THE  ATTEMPT  241 

repeater  watch.  Without  more  ado  I  crept  around 
the  bush  and  put  my  hand  over  the  mouth  of  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Stevens. 

He  did  not  give  up  without  a  struggle.  His  body 
stiffened  under  my  grip  like  an  animal's,  and  he 
drove  one  elbow  back  against  me,  while  I  felt  the 
sharp  touch  of  his  teeth  on  the  hand  that  held  his 
mouth;  so  that  I  laughed  softly  with  the  joy  of  it, 
and  pulled  him  over  on  his  back. 

'  You  had  better  lie  still,"  I  whispered,  "  and 
show  a  little  Christian  humility.  I  don't  want  to 
choke  you  unless  I  have  to." 

I  saw  the  white  of  his  eyes  glimmer  up  at  me 
in  the  darkness ;  but  he  gave  a  sudden  squirm  almost 
out  of  my  grasp,  and  kicked  viciously  at  me. 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  and  gave  his  lean  throat  a 
little  pinch,  so  that  he  sobbed  and  lay  still.  I 
gagged  him  with  his  own  handkerchief,  and  then 
holding  both  bony  wrists  in  one  hand,  I  searched  his 
pockets  until  I  found  my  watch. 

It  was  now  quite  dark  so  that  I  moved  without 
fear  of  being  seen,  remembering  only  to  move  in 
silence.  Why  Stevens  had  come  I  could  not  guess. 
It  was  enough  for  the  moment  that  he  was  here 
and  must  be  reckoned  with.  Glad  as  I  was  to  see 
him,  he  must  not  interfere  with  the  real  work  I 
had  in  hand.  So,  for  a  while,  I  sat  holding  him 
and  listening  to  the  irregular  whistle  of  his  return- 
ing breath,  casting  about  in  my  mind  for  some  means 


242     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

of  leaving  him  safely  behind  me.  I  had  nothing 
in  my  own  pockets  to  tie  him  with  except  my  hand- 
kerchief, and  this  I  used  to  bind  his  gag  more  firmly 
in  place.  At  last,  with  infinite  satisfaction,  I  set 
deliberately  to  work.  First  of  all,  I  stripped  him 
of  his  coat,  and  when  I  had  transferred  the 
contents  of  his  pockets  to  my  own,  I  tore  out 
the  lining  and  twisted  it  into  a  very  serv- 
iceable rope  to  bind  about  his  knees  and  ankles. 
His  tie,  I  found,  although  a  very  ugly  one  as  I 
remembered  it,  was  finely  suited  to  my  needs;  for 
it  was  strong  and  long  and  thick,  so  that  when  I 
had  turned  him  on  his  face  and  brought  his  hands 
together  behind  him,  I  found  it  exactly  suited  for 
tying  them  together.  The  lining  of  the  sleeves 
furnished  me  with  cord  enough  to  draw  up  his  feet 
until  they  almost  touched  his  hands,  where  I  tied 
them  together,  and  left  him  trussed  like  some  lean 
and  contorted  razor-back  swine.  It  was  not,  per- 
haps, a  very  comfortable  position  in  which  to  leave 
the  minister  who  had  married  me ;  but  the  night  was 
warm,  and  to  my  thinking,  Mr.  Stevens  did  not 
merit  much  consideration.  And  I  reflected  that  it 
would  be  easy  enough  next  day  to  send  somebody 
word  to  release  him. 

My  own  repeater  ticked  delicately  in  my  pocket 
with  a  steady,  courtly  little  sound,  perfectly  distinct 
and  rhythmical  through  the  louder  and  coarser  pulsa- 
tion of  its  cheap  plebeian  substitute,  and  when  I 


THE  ATTEMPT  243 

pressed  its  spring,  told  me  merrily  that  it  was  nearly 
nine  o'clock,  news  which  I  verified  by  a  glance  at 
the  dim,  phosphorescent  face  of  the  other.  And  I 
sat  by  the  human  bundle  I  had  made,  at  peace  and 
almost  happy.  For  all  of  my  tenseness  had  dis- 
appeared, all  that  be  fore-struggle  feeling  of  inter- 
minable time :  in  their  place  reigned  the  joyous  and 
confident  calm  of  combat.  I  did  not  even  care  that 
I  had  still  more  than  an  hour  to  wait,  and,  although 
I  had  missed  my  glimpse  of  Nancy  (for  now  her 
light  was  lit  and  the  shade  drawn),  yet  I  felt  that 
I  could  afford  to  wait,  serenely  certain  that  in  a 
little  over  an  hour  I  would  take  her  in  my  arms 
again.  There  is  something  intoxicating  in  even  the 
smallest  success,  the  very  fact  of  winning  seems  to 
make  the  ultimate  and  completer  triumph  an  easy 
and  foregone  conclusion.  I  even  made  some  shift 
to  make  my  prisoner  comfortable,  although  of 
course  I  did  not  loose  his  bonds.  At  ten  minutes 
of  ten  I  left  him  in  undisputed  possession  of  the 
place  he  had  chosen,  and  began  to  make  my  way 
carefully  toward  the  door  of  the  sanatorium.  The 
watchman  should  just  have  "gone  by,  so  my  only 
thought  was  to  avoid  observation  by  the  man  on  the 
roof,  an  observation  which  the  heavy  darkness  made 
practically  impossible. 

I  felt  along  the  ivied  wall  until  I  came  to  the  low 
steps  which  led  up  to  the  great  door,  and  then 
shrank  back  into  the  ivy  to  wait  and  listen.  I  did 


244     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

t 

not  dare,  now,  to  press  the  spring  of  my  repeater, 
but  I  guardedly  took  the  other  watch  from  my 
pocket  and,  cradling  it  in  my  hands,  saw  that  it  was 
two  minutes  of  ten.  In  a  moment  more  I  thanked 
God  in  the  darkness;  for  I  heard  the  soft  shriek 
and  click  of  the  big  lock  almost  at  my  ear. 

I  climbed  the  steps  very  cautiously,  and  for  a 
moment  stood  at  the  door  listening.  Then,  with 
infinite  care,  I  softly  and  slowly  turned  the  knob, 
and  pushed  the  door  open  an  inch  or  so.  I  could 
hear  a  murmur  of  voices  that  was  almost  articulate, 
and  surmised  that  our  mercenary  had  been  unable 
to  close  the  door  of  the  office.  Nevertheless,  al- 
though it  was  not  now  or  never,  at  least  it  was 
now.  I  pushed  the  door  still  farther  open,  just  far 
enough  to  admit  my  body,  and,  slipping  in,  softly 
closed  it  behind  me. 

To  my  satisfaction  I  found  the  hall  but  dimly 
lighted,  so  that  the  brightness  from  the  office  door 
at  my  left  hand  made  a  broad,  truncated  V  on  the 
worn  boards  of  the  hall  floor,  a  space  of  light  not 
four  feet  away  from  me,  through  which  I  must  pass 
into  the  safer  dimness  on  its  farther  side.  I  could 
now  hear  plainly  Doctor  Mayhew's  voice,  dictating 
what  I  suppose  was  some  rascally  letter  or  other,  and 
I  drew  back  into  the  corner  at  the  right  of  the 
great  door  in  the  hope  that,  leaning  forward,  I  might 
be  able  to  see  him.  As  I  did  so  his  shadow  passed 
before  me  on  the  floor.  Evidently  he  was  pacing 


THE  ATTEMPT  245 

up  and  down  as  he  wrote.  I  watched  the  grotesque 
shadow  pass  four  or  five  times,  a  shadow  whose 
striding,  giant  legs  commenced  somewhere  in  the 
office,  fell  flatly  across  the  floor  and,  bending  at  the 
wall  like  some  huge,  black,  paper  doll,  staggered  in 
vague,  flat  bulk  almost  to  the  ceiling.  Although 
the  intervals  of  its  passing  and  repassing  were  short 
they  were  at  least  regular,  and  when  I  judged  that 
Doctor  Mayhew  was  just  approaching  the  farther 
wall  and  had  his  back  turned  toward  me,  I  crossed 
the  strip  of  light  in  two  long  tiptoeing  strides,  and, 
veering  across  to  the  wall  on  my  left,  stole  softly 
along  it,  until  almost  at  its  end  it  was  cut  at  right 
angles  by  another  hall.  At  this  corner  I  stopped 
again  and  listened. 

My  straining  ears  were  still  able  to  catch  the  dis- 
tant murmur  of  Doctor  Mayhew's  dictation.  Once, 
as  I  listened,  something  seemed  to  fall  in  a  distant 
room.  Save  for  these  sounds,  the  place  was  in 
silence.  I  turned  the  corner  and  found  the  newel 
post  of  the  stairs,  a  carved  and  dilapidated  griffin, 
whose  stately  and  menacing  dignity  had  been  much 
marred  by  the  loss  of  an  ear.  I  was  foolish  enough 
to  pat  him  on  the  head,  as  a  school-boy  might  have, 
as  I  started  to  climb  the  stairs. 

If  these  stairs  had  been  built  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  alarm  they  could  scarcely  have  been  better 
contrived.  The  first  one  groaned  beneath  my  feet, 
and  the  second,  to  which  I  hastily  transferred  my 


246     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

weight,  gave  a  shriek  of  protest  that  seemed  to  my 
strained  senses  almost  human.  I  tried  the  expedient 
of  testing  each  one  of  them  with  my  hand,  but  even 
those  that  I  so  proved  silent,  yelled  betrayal  as  soon 
as  I  trusted  the  full  weight  of  my  body  to  them. 
Indeed,  I  think  every  stair  of  the  flight  was  poten- 
tially vocal,  and  differed  from  its  fellows  only  in 
the  key  and  volume  of  its  protest.  A  skilful  and 
acrobatic  musician  could,  I  think,  have  trampled  a 
dirge  from  them.  After  I  had  tried  four  or  five  in 
momentary  apprehension  of  discovery,  I  cast  myself 
astride  the  balustrade,  thinking  to  work  my  way 
up  it  hand  over  hand;  but  the  balustrade  was  the 
prima  donna  of  the  whole  chorus,  and  bawled  out 
such  a  shrilling  vibration  of  protest  that  I  slid  back 
to  the  stairs  again,  and  without  more  ado,  and 
taking  three  at  a  stride,  mounted  them  on  the  run. 
At  the  top  I  stopped  again  and  listened,  feeling 
very  much  as  a  burglar  might,  who  had  undeftly 
dislodged  a  stack  of  tin  pie  plates ;  for  I  was  certain 
that  by  now  the  whole  house  must  be  alarmed,  that 
in  another  moment  Doctor  Mayhew  and  his  janitor 
must  rush  from  below,  and  some  unknown  guard  of 
the  floor  where  I  now  stood  come  at  me  from  the 
other  side.  But  nothing  at  all  happened.  Some 
one  in  one  of  the  closed  rooms  had  a  fit  of  coughing, 
and  brought  it  to  a  loud  and  successful  conclusion. 
Below  me  the  dim  well  of  the  hall  lay  in  silent  mys- 
tery, like  waters  that  had  parted  to  let  me  through 


THE  ATTEMPT  247 

and  closed  again  after  my  passage.  I  stole  along 
again,  counting  the  doors  as  I  passed.  At  the  one  I 
knew  to  be  Mrs.  Lathrop's  I  stopped  and  listened, 
but  there  was  no  sound.  I  debated  for  a  moment 
whether  or  not  I  should  tap  and  whisper  "  all  well  " 
to  her,  but  I  decided  against  it  and  went  tiptoeing 
on.  I  had  come  to  the  next  door  when  there  came 
a  rattle  of  the  latch  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall; 
the  door  I  took  to  be  Nancy's  opened  and  into  the 
sudden  brightness  stepped  the  square  figure  of  Mrs. 
Olsen. 

I  shrank  instinctively  against  the  door  at  my  side, 
and,  because  I  was  sure  that  in  spite  of  the  dimness 
of  the  hall  she  must  have  seen  me,  I  abandoned  my 
foolish  attempt  at  concealment  and  risked  a  very 
doubtful  strategy.  It  was  a  dubious  experiment, 
but,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  the  only  one  left  open  to 
me.  Mrs.  Olsen  was  still  too  far  away  to  take  by 
surprise,  or  by  any  sudden  move  of  mine  be  pre- 
vented from  giving  the  alarm ;  so,  there  being  noth- 
ing else  for  it,  I  tried  to  impersonate  Doctor  May- 
hew,  although  I  knew  myself  so  much  larger  than  he 
that  I  was  desperately  uncertain  of  success.  Nev- 
ertheless, I  stooped  to  the  bolt  as  nonchalantly  as  I 
could,  and  shooting  it  carelessly  back,  turned  the 
handle  and  stepped  quietly  into  the  room,  closing  the 
door  behind  me.  I  found  the  room  in  the  half-light 
of  a  turned-down  lamp,  and  from  a  huddle  of  bed 
clothes  a  face  turned  and  looked  at  me,  the  weary 


248     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

face  of  the  old  man  I  had  seen  from  my  place  amidst 
the  ivy,  a  startled  old  face  now,  with  frightened 
eyes  that  looked  at  me  piteously,  as  if  my  unex- 
pected entrance  was  only  some  new  and  untimed 
terror.  I  nodded  and  smiled  at  him  reassuringly. 

"It's  all  right/'  I  said  gently;  "I'm  not  one  of 
the  doctors  or  anything  like  that.  You  can  set  your 
mind  at  rest.  I'm  only  some  one  who  has  come  to 
find  out  about  this  place.  Perhaps  —  who  knows 
—  perhaps  I  can  even  send  you  home  again  some 
day." 

"  Home,"  the  old  fellow  quavered,  looking  at  me 
uncomprehendingly,  "  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  repeated,  "  perhaps  I  can  send  you 
home." 

He  passed  his  hand  over  the  gray  stubble  of  lip 
and  chin,  and  brushed  the  straggle  of  thin  hair  back 
from  his  forehead. 

"  Home,"  he  repeated,  with  some  dawning  of 
comprehension,  and  to  my  surprise  and  embarrass- 
ment, sat  bolt  upright  in  bed  and  burst  into  tears. 

I  thought,  through  his  sobbing,  I  could  hear  steps 
passing  in  the  hall  outside.  I  stepped  back  to  the 
door  and  listened,  and  it  seemed  to  me  the  footsteps 
were  dying  away  in  the  direction  of  the  stairs;  so 
that  I  was  on  fire  to  open  the  door  again,  certain 
that  the  coast  was  now  clear,  and  wild  to  be  with 
Nancy.  But  for  the  life  of  me,  I  could  not  so 
abruptly  leave  that  sobbing  old  creature  on  the  hud- 


THE  ATTEMPT  249 

died  bed.  It  was  insane  to  wait,  and  all  my  inclina- 
tion and  hope  and  love  and  fear  drew  me  away,  but 
against  my  will  I  came  back  to  his  bed  again,  and  put 
my  arm  about  his  shoulders. 

"  Listen,"  I  said ;  "  you  must  be  very  quiet,  for  no 
one  must  find  out  that  I  have  been  here.  Perhaps 
you  won't  understand  now,  but  you  can  think  of  it 
when  I  am  gone.  I  haven't  time  to  tell  you  much, 
but  I  promise  you  that  I  am  going  to  try  to  help  not 
only  you,  but  all  the  people  here.  I  may  be  able  to 
do  it  to-morrow;  perhaps  it  will  be  some  days,  or 
even  some  weeks,  but  you  must  remember  that  ev- 
erything is  going  to  be  all  right,  that  the  days  of 
this  place  have  come  to  an  end,  and  that  you  are 
going  to  be  free  again.  This  is  a  secret  between  us, 
and  a  secret  that  you  must  keep.  You  must  believe 
it,  for  it  is  true.  Good  night." 

As  I  talked,  the  poor  old  fellow  had  stopped 
crying,  and  I  did  not  wait  even  to  see  if  he  under- 
stood me,  but  opened  the  door  again  and,  seeing  that 
the  hall  was  empty,  stepped  out  and  shot  the  bolt 
behind  me,  and  ran  on  tiptoes  to  the  door  of  Nancy's 
room. 

"  Nancy,"  I  called  in  a  whisper,  "  Nancy !  "  and 
tapped  gently  on  the  panel. 

No  one  answered  me,  and  although  I  knew  that 
this  might  mean  that  Mrs.  Olsen  was  still  in  the 
room,  there  was  no  going  back  now,  nor  did  I  wish 
for  any.  If  there  was  to  be  a  fight  I  should  wel- 


250     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

come  it;  only  now  I  must  have  Nancy  behind  me. 
I  undid  the  lock  and  stepped  into  the  room,  shutting 
the  door  to  find  myself  in  absolute  darkness. 

"  Nancy,"  I  whispered  again,  and  again  I  got  no 
answer. 

I  felt  for  my  matches  with  shaking  fingers,  broke 
the  first,  and  in  the  brilliant  flare  of  the  next  saw 
that  I  was  all  alone.  Either  I  had  mistaken  the 
room,  or  Nancy  had  been  moved. 

The  match  burned  to  my  fingers  and  went  out, 
so  that  I  groped  for  the  door  in  the  darkness.  As 
my  hand  fell  on  the  knob,  there  came  a  heavy  rush 
of  feet  along  the  hall,  and  as  I  stood  tensely  waiting 
for  the  door  to  open,  I  heard  the  sudden  rattle  of  the 
bolt  as  it  was  shot  into  its  place. 


XXV 

THE  ENCOUNTER 

WITH  the  surprise,  a  wave  of  sheer  and  utter 
disgust  swept  over  me.  I  had  come  very 
sure  of  myself,  quite  certain  that  before  an  hour 
had  passed  I  should  have  Nancy  free  again,  and 
that  she  and  Mrs.  Lathrop  and  I  would  be  well  on 
our  way  back  toward  the  village.  I  meant  to  do 
all  this,  as  I  have  said,  by  stealth;  but  I  had  quite 
realized  the  possibility,  or  even  probability,  of  some 
sharp  personal  encounter,  and  in  my  heart  of  hearts 
I  had  secretly  looked  forward  to  it.  But  suddenly 
to  find  myself  trapped  and  bolted  in  had  not  for 
a  moment  entered  into  my  reckoning.  I  had  been 
caught  and  locked  up  like  a  school-boy,  and  for  a 
while  a  sickening  sense  of  humiliation  triumphed 
even  over  my  anger,  a  sense  that  sapped  at  my 
strength  like  a  very  fever.  Even  now  I  hate  to 
recall  the  moment,  to  bring  back  again  to  memory 
the  petulant  and  weakened  force  with  which  I  put 
my  shoulder  to  the  door,  only  to  hear  a  little  groan 
of  its  double  bolted  oak,  and  the  rough-voiced,  un- 
feminine  giggle  that  answered  my  effort  from  the 
other  side. 

251 


252     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

I  tried  the  door  again  and  again  without  success, 
but  whether  it  was  indeed  beyond  my  strength,  still 
languorous  with  disgrace,  I  do  not  know.  But,  at 
any  rate,  although  I  made  the  oak  cry  aloud  and 
again,  bolt  and  panel  still  held  and  all  I  got  for  my 
effort  was  a  bruised  shoulder. 

Nor,  when  I  had  tried  the  window,  did  I  have 
any  better  success  with  the  bars.  I  could  bend 
them  a  little,  to  be  sure,  bend  them  with  what  seemed 
to  me  a  great  effort,  about  as  much  as  they  had 
moved  under  my  hand  from  my  insecure  purchase 
among  the  ivy  the  night  before.  So  that  it  almost 
seemed  to  me  that  the  bars  must  have  been  changed, 
that  my  coming  had  been  planned  for  and  expected ; 
and  I  sickened  still  more  at  the  thought.  So  certain 
did  this  idea  become  to  me,  that  I  took  no  comfort 
from  the  fact  that  these  bars,  too,  were  rusty,  that 
their  heavy  surfaces  were  so  channeled  and  scarred 
by  corrosion,  that  my  gloves,  and  even  the  palms  of 
my  hands,  were  cut  and  torn.  Because  now  I  could 
not  tear  them  away  I  felt  that  they  were  other  than 
those  which  I  had  bent  so  easily  the  evening  be- 
fore, which  certainty  added  by  implication  the  cer- 
tainty that  I  had  fallen  into  a  well-laid  trap.  I  felt 
that  when  I  at  last  found  Nancy  again  I  could 
scarcely  look  her  in  the  eyes,  but  must  stand  with 
bowed  head  before  her  like  some  birched  booby. 

After  an  eternity  of  this  sort  of  thing  I  felt  in  my 
pocket  for  my  matches,  only  to  find  that  I  had  lost 


THE  ENCOUNTER  253 

them.  Sullenly  I  thought  back  until  I  remembered. 
I  had  struck  one  match  when  I  first  found  the  room 
in  darkness,  but,  in  my  surprise  at  the  barrenness 
its  flare  revealed,  I  must  have  dropped  the  box  which 
held  the  others.  So  now  I  went  down  on  my  hands 
and  knees,  and  becoming  the  creeping  thing  I  al- 
ready felt  myself,  fumbled  the  floor  in  search  of 
them.  At  last  near  the  door  I  recovered  them,  and 
by  the  light  of  the  first  one  found  the  fixture  and  lit 
the  jet. 

This  really  was  the  room  which  had  been  Nancy's. 
That  my  first  glance  in  the  jumping,  flickering  light 
showed  me.  Every  trace  of  her  occupancy  had 
gone,  except  the  great  chair  with  its  tattered  cover- 
ing, which  had  distinguished  her  room  from  the 
others.  But  even  in  my  groping  in  the  dark  I  had 
known  it  to  be  Nancy's  room.  Humanity,  in  spite 
of  the  materialists,  is  a  strangely  spiritual  thing, 
which  leaves,  even  in  passing,  a  certain  invisible 
radiance,  an  intangible,  nebulous  train  of  personal 
aura,  faint  and  mystical,  but  still  softly  vibrant  and 
perceptible,  at  least  to  one  other  human  being,  whose 
receptive  senses  are  attuned  by  love.  To  limit  man- 
kind to  five  senses  is  as  obviously  superficial  as  are 
most  of  the  dogmatic  dictums  of  science.  I  really 
knew  before  I  lit  my  first  match  that  Nancy  was 
gone,  and  as  certainly  I  knew  now  that  this  had  once 
been  her  room. 

For  a  while  I  was  so  selfishly  absorbed  in  the 


254     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

thought  of  my  coming  shame  when  I  should  find 
her,  that  even  my  curiosity  was  deadened ;  but  with 
the  bare  little  room  so  lately  hers,  and  now  so 
plainly  before  me  in  the  jumping  gas  light,  I  began 
to  wonder,  at  first  in  a  faint,  subconscious  sort  of 
way  and  then  with  a  sudden  leaping  apprehension, 
where  they  had  taken  her.  I  suppose  that  I  had 
felt,  even  without  a  full  realization,  that  she  was 
only  somewhere  else  in  the  building,  that  in  moving 
her  from  this  room,  they  had  simply  put  her  in 
another;  and  that,  once  I  was  out,  I  should  find 
her  wherever  she  was.  But  now  as  my  vague  dis- 
quietude took  a  more  concrete  form  and  sprang  in 
a  moment  from  numb  speculation  to  positive  dread, 
the  thought  of  that  menacing  figure  of  the  man  in 
the  brown  derby  came  before  me,  and  I  found  my- 
self standing  stark  afraid,  cold  with  dread  and  a 
consuming,  murderous  rage;  for,  of  a  sudden,  I 
had  remembered  the  "  dark  room." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  door  swung  open, 
and  the  man  in  all  the  world  whom  I  most  desired 
to  see  stepped  in.  I  had  not  heard  the  bolts  un- 
done, but  now  I  heard  them  slip  softly  into  place 
behind  him. 

I  think  he  had  meant  to  meet  me  with  some  mock- 
ing commonplace,  but  he  must  have  seen  the  murder 
in  my  eyes,  and  like  a  wise  man  determined  to 
bide  his  time;  for  almost  as  the  door  shut  I  found 
myself  looking  into  the  mouth  of  a  revolver. 


THE  ENCOUNTER  255 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Doctor  Morrison,  very  quietly. 

Very  reluctantly  I  turned  and  took  the  great, 
tattered  chair  which  had  once  been  Nancy's.  I 
wished  with  all  my  heart  to  remain  on  my  feet; 
for  standing,  I  could  better  watch  my  opportunity, 
and  when  it  came,  take  advantage  of  it.  But  this 
was  probably  the  reason  he  desired  me  sitting,  and 
it  was  perfectly  evident  that  he  wished  nothing 
better  than  some  excuse  for  pulling  the  trigger. 
When  I  was  once  seated,  however,  he  began  to 
laugh. 

:*  Your  particular  form  of  insanity,"  he  began, 
"  interests  me  extremely.  I  assure  you  that  we 
have  very  few  patients  who  come  here  of  their  own 
accord.  In  fact,  in  all  the  time  that  I  have  been 
connected  with  this  institution,  I  do  not  remember 
any  one,  who  realized  that  he  must  stay  here  for 
life,  voluntarily  seeking  such  a  lengthy  course  of 
treatment  and  confinement." 

"  Where  have  you  put  her?  "  I  asked. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  this  is  another  peculiar  feature 
of  the  case,  one  of  the  rarest  coincidences,  in  my 
judgment,  in  all  psychopathic  history.  You  doubt- 
less believe,  and  I  suppose  will  calmly  assert,  that 
you  were  married  a  short  time  ago,  and  that  some 
one  has  taken  your  wife  away  from  you.  You  will 
say  your  name  is  Ellsworth,  and  that  you  were  mar- 
ried to  a  Miss what's  her  name  ?  -  -  Bond,  I 

believe,  is  the  name.  That  wouldn't  be  so  funny, 


256     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

except  for  the  coincidence;  and  that,  to  my  mind, 
is  screamingly  humorous.  You  may  not  belieA'e  it, 
—  but,  I  forget,  that,  of  course,  is  exactly  what  you 
do  believe  —  but  we  have  a  young  lady  here  whose 
name  really  is  Bond,  whose  peculiar  form  of  hal- 
lucination is  much  like  yours;  that  she  was  married 
a  short  time  ago  (and  this  will  amuse  even  you, 
incredible  as  it  may  seem),  to  a  man  named  Ells- 
worth. I  really  must  write  a  paper  about  it.  Of 
course  the  thing  may  be  simply  a  coincidence,  and 
yet  I  can  not  believe  but  that  I  have  discovered  a 
new  form  of  hallucination,  which  I  propose  to  call 
*  telepathic  insanity.' ' 

I  watched  him  very  carefully  as  he  spoke.  He 
was  evidently  much  pleased  with  himself,  and  the 
cold,  close-set  eyes  almost  sparkled  with  pleasure. 
Once  or  twice  he  even  waved  the  revolver  in  a 
sort  of  explanatory  gesture,  a  gesture  which  I  soon 
hoped  to  make  him  repeat.  I  saw  him  at  close 
quarters,  a  man  almost  as  tall  as  I  am,  whose  thick, 
sloping  shoulders,  long  arms,  and  broad,  muscular 
hands  promised  a  strength  beyond  the  ordinary, — 
a  strength,  which,  if  he  would  only  wave  the  re- 
volver a  little  farther  to  one  side,  I  might  test 
without  too  much  risk  of  leaving  Nancy  without  a 
protector. 

"  Do  you  propose  to  keep  me  here  indefinitely?  " 
I  asked,  more  for  the  sake  of  saying  something 
than  from  any  curiosity  as  to  his  answer. 


THE  ENCOUNTER  257 

Doctor  Morrison  smiled.  "  I  really  can  not  say," 
he  said,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders;  "that  will 
be  a  matter  for  the  other  doctors  to  decide  at  some 
future  time.  Perhaps  in  a  few  years  they  might 
manage  to  effect  your  cure  and  so  release  you. 
Personally  I  am  severing  my  connection  with  the 
institution.  I  may  be  overstepping  ethical  bounda- 
ries in  making  this  confession  to  a  patient,  but  great 
good  fortune  makes  fools  of  us  all.  I  am  going  to 
be  married,  Mr.  Ellsworth." 

"  Might  I  inquire,"  I  asked,  "  if  your  plans  in- 
clude bigamy  ?  " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  now,  now.  Pray  be  calm. 
The  more  you  try  to  master  that  hallucination 
of  yours,  the  nearer  you  are  to  a  cure.  I  am  going 
to  marry  Miss  Bond,  an  old  patient  of  mine  who 
is  almost  cured." 

The  revolver  waved  so  far  this  time  that  my 
muscles  tautened  for  a  spring. 

"Cured?"  I  repeated. 

"  Yes ;  we  have  great  hopes  of  our  new  treat- 
ment. We  have  her — " 

"  Yes,"  I  prompted,  "  you  have  her  — " 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  not  tell  you,"  said  Doctor 
Morrison. 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  I  said,  as  indifferently  as  I 
could,  lowering  my  eyes  that  he  might  not  see  the 
sudden  murder  in  them. 

"Well,  you'd  better  hear  after  all,"  said  Doctor 


258     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Morrison.  "Just  before  you  dropped  in  here,  we 
thought  it  best  to  remove  her  to  the  dark  room." 

"  Where  ?  "  I  managed  to  say. 

"  The  dark  room,"  answered  Doctor  Morrison, 
and  pointed  indefinitely  down  and  to  the  right  with 
the  hand  that  held  the  revolver,  so  that,  as  I  came 
up  and  struck  him  in  the  face,  his  first  bullet  went 
behind  me  into  the  floor.  But,  with  my  spring,  I 
had  misjudged  distance  a  little,  and  although  I  had 
hit  him  hard,  the  blow  had  come  too  low,  striking 
his  chest  and  only  glancing  against  his  chin,  so  that 
he  staggered  back  and  would  have  raised  the  re- 
volver had  I  not  grasped  his  wrist.  Even  then  he 
cursed  me  heartily,  and,  I  think,  had  no  doubt  of  his 
ability  to  wrest  himself  free  in  a  moment  or  so; 
and  indeed,  at  his  first  sudden  wrench  almost  suc- 
ceeded. But  I  managed  somehow  to  hold  on,  and 
struck  at  him  again  with  my  free  right  hand.  This 
time  he  lowered  his  head  to  the  blow,  so  that  instead 
of  striking  him  on  the  chin,  as  I  had  wished,  my 
clenched  fist  drove  squarely  against  the  top  of  his 
skull;  and  though  I  struck  from  very  short  range, 
I  hit  him  with  enough  force,  I  think,  to  surprise 
both  of  us,  for  he  grunted  aloud,  and  seemed 
for  a  second  to  settle  a  little,  with  a  queer  giving 
of  all  his  muscles,  as  I  have  seen  a  steer  settle 
when  struck  by  the  slaughtering  hammer.  But  his 
skull  was  thick  and  he  did  not  fall;  and  my 
own  injury  was,  perhaps,  as  great  as  his.  I  thought 


THE  ENCOUNTER  259 

dimly  that  I  had  broken  some  bone  in  my  hand,  and 
noticed,  in  a  detached  sort  of  way,  that  my  glove 
had  split  from  finger-crotch  to  wrist,  so  that  the 
back  of  my  hand  showed  through  like  a  livid  gash. 
Then,  like  a  flash,  he  had  closed  with  me,  his  left 
arm  clapped  about  my  back  and  his  leg  locked  be- 
hind mine  in  the  simple,  old  wrestling  trick  per- 
fectly familiar  to  boys  the  world  over.  I  knew  it 
too  well  to  be  much  afraid  of  it,  and  only  straight- 
ened and  stiffened  against  it,  working  my  right  arm 
up  until  it  was  between  us,  until  I  got  my  hand  fairly 
under  his  chin,  pushing  his  head  up  and  backward. 
When  a  man  is  fighting  for  other  lives  than  his 
own,  he  fights  not  by  any  particular  code,  except 
that  the  instinct  of  tradition  forbids  him  to  use  his 
teeth;  but  fights,  as  best  he  may,  to  win,  using 
whatever  means  present  the  most  potent  possibilities. 
I  hoped,  once  I  had  pushed  his  head  backward  far 
enou^1?,  to  strike  him  across  the  throat  with  the 
edge  of  my  hand,  a  short,  chopping  stroke,  that  was 
the  only  thing  I  recalled  of  forgotten  lessons  in  jiu 
jitsu;  but  Morrison  suddenly  let  go  and  the  very 
pressure  of  my  hand  upon  his  chin  sent  him  back- 
ward and  away  from  me  out  of  immediate  striking 
distance,  so  that  the  arms  which  struggled  for  the 
revolver  were  stretched  like  a  rope  between  us. 
But  now  there  was  no  longer  any  question  of  his 
being  able  to  wrench  himself  away,  for  with  the 
seconds  of  fighting  my  strength  was  coming  back  to 


260     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

me  again,  and  the  power  which  I  had  never  used 
but  once  before  began  to  glow  through  me  like  old 
brandy. 

I  do  not  mean  that  I  was  certain  of  him,  but 
only  certain  that  he  could  not  wrench  his  hand 
away.  For  the  great,  sloping  shoulders  had  not  be- 
lied the  man.  He  was  stronger  than  any  one  I  had 
ever  met,  and  now,  as  for  the  moment  we  looked  in 
each  other's  eyes,  as  he  saw  in  mine  I  know  not 
what  joy  of  battle  or  leaping  lust  of  longed-for 
vengeance,  and  as  I  saw  his  face  grow  stern  and 
set  with  realization,  grow  white  and  tight-lipped  as 
the  face  of  a  man  who  finds  himself,  in  a  moment, 
breast  to  breast  with  death,  I  knew  that  I  must 
fight  warily  and  well.  I  tightened  still  more  the 
hand  that  grasped  his  wrist,  and  still  looking  at 
him,  bent  it  slowly  over,  hoping  by  the  agony  of  the 
twist  to  loosen  the  fingers  that  clenched  the  revolver 
butt.  I  saw  the  pain  in  his  face ;  and  then  the  most 
dreadful  and  fearful  thing  a  man  can  see,  utter  and 
absolute  fear,  the  mad  terror  that  is  more  dangerous 
than  sheer  courage,  the  maniac  strength  of  the  basic 
and  ultimate  coward. 

I  threw  my  arm  before  my  face  instinctively  as 
he  leaped  at  me,  jerking  and  holding  him  away  as 
best  I  could  with  the  other,  so  that  his  teeth  snapped 
like  a  dog's  but  a  few  inches  from  my  face.  Though 
for  a  full  minute  I  held  him  struggling  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  tearing  at  me  with  his  free  hand, 


THE  ENCOUNTER  261 

striking  with  his  lowered  head,  kicking,  scratching 
and  biting,  a  great  and  horrible  thing,  a  man  fallen 
suddenly  brute  with  all  a  brute's  vicious,  unreason- 
ing strength,  yet,  by  what  grace  I  do  not  know,  I 
escaped  unhurt ;  and  as  his  strength  began  to  lessen, 
I  pushed  him  back  and  back,  until  I  had  him  fair 
against  the  wall  of  the  room,  with  the  open  bars 
behind  him,  where  I  rested  for  a  moment,  panting. 
Then  I  pushed  his  hand  backward  and  up  until  the 
steel  of  his  weapon  rattled  and  grated  against  the 
blind  bars  of  the  window,  the  revolver  fell  at  last 
from  his  fingers,  striking  the  sill  as  it  fell  and  drop- 
ping out  into  the  darkness. 

I  flung  aside  his  hand,  then,  and  stepped  back  a 
pace  or  so,  for  I  was  still  foolish  enough  to  want 
to  fight  him  fairly.  But  when  he  had  a  little  re- 
covered himself,  I  saw  his  eyes  flicker  to  the  door 
which  had  been  bolted  behind  him  until  they  reached 
the  electric  push-button,  which  he  had  evidently 
meant  to  ring  when  he  wished  the  door  again  un- 
bolted; and,  though  it  had  been  only  a  glance,  I 
knew  as  well  as  if  he  had  shouted  it  aloud  that  he 
had  had  enough  of  fighting,  and  that  his  only  thought 
was  to  get  to  that  bell.  Nevertheless,  I  stood  where 
I  was  and  watched  quietly,  getting  my  breath  again 
and  gathering  myself  together  to  meet  any  move 
that  he  might  make.  But  when  that  move  came,  it 
was  not  directly  toward  the  door,  as  I  had  ex- 
pected, but  suddenly  and  obliquely  toward  the  little 


262     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

iron  wash-stand  in  the  corner.  His  hand  was  fairly 
on  the  tin  pitcher  before  I  reached  him  and  struck 
him  with  all  my  strength. 

He  threw  up  one  arm  in  some  kind  of  guard, 
while  his  other  hand,  now  grasping  the  handle  of 
the  pitcher,  jerked  it  toward  me,  splashing  a  little 
cascade  of  water  on  to  the  bare  boards  of  the  floor. 
But  though  the  blow  spent  some  of  its  force  upon 
his  arm,  yet  it  staggered  him  and  carried  him  back, 
so  that,  as  I  followed  it  with  my  other  hand,  I 
caught  him  this  time  unguarded,  full  and  fair  on 
the  point  of  the  chin,  shaking  his  head  upon  his 
shoulders.  His  arms  jerked  up  convulsively  and 
fell ;  and  he  crashed  back  into  the  wall  behind  him ; 
tottered,  crumpled  and  fell  sprawling  to  the  floor  on 
his  face.  The  heavy  tin  pitcher  clattered  by  his  side 
and  drenched  him  with  water,  but  he  did  not  move ; 
and  I  turned  him  over  on  his  back. 

I  examined  him  rapidly,  and  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief  to  find  his  heart  still  beating.  I  had  struck 
him  coldly  enough,  and  as  I  struck  had  not  thought 
or  cared  whether  or  not  the  blow  would  kill  him; 
but  now,  as  I  bent  over  him,  I  found  myself  glad 
that,  in  spite  of  his  cruelty  and  his  wickedness,  I  had 
not  killed  the  man.  But  I  was  almost  equally  glad 
that  I  had  put  him,  for  a  while,  beyond  doing  mis- 
chief. 

I  straightened  up  and  looked  about  the  room. 
Spilled  water  was  running  across  the  dusty  floor  in 


THE  ENCOUNTER  263 

little,  mercury-like  rivulets,  that  rushed  roundly 
and  erratically  forward  for  a  few,  narrow-tongued 
inches,  stopped  apparently  causelessly,  and  as  cause- 
lessly shot  on  a  little  way  again.  The  air  was  so 
full  of  dust  that  it  set  me  coughing.  But,  save  for 
the  dust  and  the  spilled  water  and  the  great,  inert 
figure  on  the  floor,  the  room  was  just  as  it  had  been, 
the  door  was  still  bolted  on  the  outside,  and  I  was 
still  a  prisoner. 

There  was,  however,  another  difference.  I  was 
still  fast  bolted  in,  but  now  I  knew  that  the  bolts 
could  not  hold  me,  that  I  was  as  strong  now  as  I 
had  been  weak  before,  and  that  four-inch  bits  of 
steel  and  thumb-thick  panels  of  oak  could  no  longer 
block  my  way  to  Nancy. 

I  wondered  that  the  revolver  shot  and  the  uproar 
of  our  struggle  had  not  brought  some  one  already, 
and,  indeed,  as  I  had  fought,  I  had  momentarily 
expected  to  hear  the  click  of  bolts  and  the  opening 
of  the  door  behind  me.  So  now,  before  I  put  my 
shoulder  to  it,  I  paused  and  listened,  my  ear  close 
to  the  open  panel.  Some  one  was  undoubtedly  in 
the  hall  outside,  two,  or  perhaps  three,  people ;  for  I 
was  sure  that  I  distinguished  Mrs.  Olsen's  voice, 
and  thought  that  it  was  Doctor  Mayhew  who  an- 
swered her. 

"  We  had  better  go  in,"  I  heard  him  say. 

"  But,"  protested  Mrs.  Olsen,  if  it  were  she,  "  he 
said  that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed." 


264     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  You  say  — "  Doctor  Mayhew's  voice  faltered, 
"that  you  heard  a  — a  shot?  That  — that  would 
be  going  pretty  far,  Mrs.  Olsen.  Even  we  can't 
have  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  It's  probably  in  self-defense." 

"But,"  Doctor  Mayhew  said  plaintively,  "you 
can't  shoot  patients  in  an  asylum  even  in  self-de- 
fense. He  ought  to  have  taken  Mat  in  with  him. 
Mrs.  Olsen,  I  don't  like  it.  I'm  going  in,  whether 
or  no." 

"  And  be  a  witness  ?  "  she  asked  dryly. 

I  did  not  wait  for  any  more.  They  certainly 
were  not  going  to  wait  much  longer,  and  there  might 
be  three  or  four  in  the  party,  a  risk  which  I  did  not 
want  to  run.  So  I  faced  about  to  the  window 
again,  thinking,  once  I  had  torn  the  bars  away  and 
dropped  down  outside,  to  come  in  again  at  some 
lower  window.  But  to  my  joy  I  saw  something 
that  until  now  had  in  some  way  entirely  escaped 
my  observation.  A  smaller  door,  much  like  the  one 
I  had  left,  led  into  an  adjoining  room. 

Time  was  precious  now,  I  felt,  and  I  put  my 
shoulder  to  it  and  heaved  with  all  my  might,  so 
that  the  oak  panel  cracked  and  split,  and  I  could 
hear  the  lock  groan.  With  another  heave  it  flew 
open  before  me ;  and  I  stumbled  into  a  room,  lighted 
like  my  own,  turned  around  and  shut  the  door,  and 
saw  lying  before  it  and  almost  at  my  feet  a  little, 
huddled-up  man  who  had  evidently  been  listening  to 


THE  ENCOUNTER  265 

the  strange  sounds  on  the  other  side.  I  paid  no  at- 
tention to  him,  but  strode  across  the  room  and 
dragged  back  his  iron  bed  to  prop  against  the  door, 
as  some  makeshift  for  its  broken  lock.  I  put  him 
aside  as  gently  as  I  could  to  do  this,  and  he  turned 
a  frightened  face  toward  me,  hiding  a  wobbling, 
rabbit-like  chin  with  trembling  fingers.  I  straight- 
ened up  in  amazement,  for  I  was  looking  into  the 
shifting  eyes  of  Ephraim  Bond. 


XXVI 

THE  DARK  ROOM 

HIS  surprise  was,  I  think,  quite  as  great  as  my 
own.  He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  soft 
jaw  fallen,  round  mouth  agape;  and  as  he  looked 
his  shifty  eyes  began  to  snap  with  a  sort  of  petulant 
fury,  and  he  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  little  stamp  that 
reminded  me  all  the  more  of  a  rabbit. 

"  You?  "  he  said,  "  you?  "  and  he  pointed  at  me 
a  hand  which  shook  with  the  raging  tempest  of  his 
sudden  anger.  "  You  ?  "  he  repeated  again  at  last, 
as  if  the  word  was  an  execration  and  the  top  limit 
of  his  vocabulary. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  a  little  flippantly,  for  I  felt 
giddy  and  drunk  with  fighting,  "  it  is  I,  Mr.  Bond. 
May  I  ask  what  you  are  doing  here?  Or  rather,  I 
don't  care  to  ask,  or  waste  time  in  listening  to  your 
answer.  I  can  guess  well  enough  why  you  are  here. 
I  will  trouble  you  to  open  that  door  now;  for  I 
have  some  work  to  do,  and  perhaps  you  had  better 
come  along  and  explain  things  to  Doctor  Mayhew." 

He  cowered  and  winced  as  my  hand  fell  on  his 
arm,  but,  with  a  rising  anger,  fairly  mowed  at  me. 

"Open  the  door?"  he  shrieked;  "how  should  I 
266 


THE  DARK  ROOM  267 

open  the  door?  I  promise  you,  Mason  Ellsworth, 
I'll  have  the  law  on  you  for  this.  Oh,  you're 
clever,  very  clever,  indeed.  Don't  make  a  mock  of 
me  too  soon.  You'll  find  yourself  in  prison  one  of 
these  days,  sir." 

"  May  I  ask  what  on  earth  you  are  talking 
about?  "  I  said. 

Ephraim  Bond's  fluttering  rage  seemed  gone  in 
a  moment.  He  looked  again,  all  in  a  flash,  the  soft- 
mannered,  trembling-chinned  old  man  I  had  first  met 
in  the  Lexington  Avenue  stable.  Tears  of  self-pity 
began  to  well  into  his  eyes  and  flow  weakly  down 
his  cheeks,  till  he  snuffled  and  rubbed  his  soft  nose. 

"  What  wrong  have  I  done  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth?  " 
he  asked,  with  a  little  sobbing  catch  in  his  voice. 
"  Aren't  you  satisfied  ?  What  has  she  told  you  ?  " 

"  She  told  me  enough  to  make  me  want  to  throttle 
you,"  I  answered,  "  but  that  can  wait." 

"  If  more  money  is  all  you  want,"  he  interrupted, 
"  you  can  have  that,  and  plenty.  I  mean  to  be  fair 
to  everybody." 

"Come,"  I  said;  "enough  of  this.  Hurry,  and 
let  me  out,  and  show  me  where  you  have  put  her." 

"  Where  — "  A  very  real  amazement  made  the 
wobbling  chin  drop  again.  "  Do  you  really  mean 
to  say,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  that  you  did  not  do  it  ?  " 

"  Do  what  ? "  I  answered  angrily.  "  If  you 
mean,  did  I  break  your  agent's  jaw  in  the  next  room 
there,  I  hope  I  did.  Come  now ;  the  door." 


268     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

Mr.  Bond  spread  out  his  hands  in  a  wide  gesture. 
"  Can't  you  see,  young  man,"  he  asked,  "  that  I  am 
a  prisoner  here  myself?  " 

"  You  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

The  anger  was  coming  back  into  his  face  again. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  a  prisoner,  a  prisoner !  Trapped 
here  and  illegally  detained.  I  have  thought,  sir, 
that  this  was  some  revenge  of  yours;  but  if  you  did 
not  do  it  —  and  I  see  that  you  did  not  —  my  wrong 
is  greater  than  I  had  supposed.  I  thought  I  heard 
his  voice,  but  I  could  not  believe  it.  Oh,  this  is 
terrible,  terrible!  Mr.  Ellsworth,  you  must  leave 
me.  I  must  have  time  to  think, —  to  think." 

"  Leave  you !  "  I  said ;  "  I  am  as  trapped  as  you 
are.  Hush!  they  are  opening  the  door  in  the  next 
room." 

The  door  had  certainly  been  opened.  I  heard  a 
little  shriek  from  Mrs.  Olsen,  and  a  rapped-out  oath 
from  Doctor  Mayhew.  Decidedly  it  was  time  to  be 
about  my  business. 

"  Mr.  Bond,  I  think  we  can  help  each  other,"  I 
whispered. 

But  Mr.  Bond  had  sunk  down  on  the  bed  which 
stood  pushed  against  the  door,  and  sat  with  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands,  whimpering  and  shaking 
like  some  foolish  little  animal. 

I  shook  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Come,"  I  said,  "  you  can  have  your  cry  later. 
Just  now,  we've  got  to  get  out." 


THE  DARK  ROOM  269 

"  To  have  done  this !  "  said  Mr.  Bond. 

"If  you're  talking  about  that  fellow  in  the  brown 
derby,"  I  said,  "  we're  almost  square  with  him  now. 
Come,  Mr.  Bond,  they  will  be  in  here  in  a  minute, 
and  I  want  you  to  help  me."  I  stood  him  on  his 
feet  and  pulled  his  hands  from  his  stricken  face. 
"  Listen,"  I  said.  "  I  am  going  to  shake  the  door 
into  the  hall,  and  when  I  stop,  I  want  you  to  com- 
mence. Make  as  much  noise  as  you  can.  Kick  it, 
if  you  have  to.  You  understand  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  blankly,  and  I  repeated  my  in- 
structions all  over  again,  prefacing  them  with  a 
threat  of  immediate  violence  to  stir  him  into  com- 
prehension. This  time  he  nodded. 

A  hand  cautiously  pushed  at  the  broken  door  be- 
hind me. 

"  Quick,"  I  said.  "  Push  against  the  bed  as  hard 
as  you  can,  and  then  come  over  to  the  other  door  as 
soon  as  I  am  through." 

I  really  had  no  time  to  think  much  about  Mr. 
Bond,  to  care  what  his  distress  was  or  how  he  got 
there.  My  whole  thought  was  now  to  get  out  of 
that  room,  to  get,  if  possible,  into  the  hall,  where 
I  was  sure  that  I  could  burst  through  any  opposi- 
tion. So,  now,  I  threw  myself  with  all  my  weight 
against  the  door  leading  to  it,  giving  a  great  shout 
as  I  did  so,  and  making  the  panels  crack  and  cry 
aloud.  I  made  two  of  these  charges,  shouting  all 
the  time  at  the  top  of  my  lungs,  and  I  am  not  sure 


2/o     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

but  with  a  few  more  essays  I  could  have  broken  even 
that  great  door  down ;  but  I  thought  my  present  plan 
a  better  one. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Bond,"  I  said,  and  dragged  him  from 
his  position  by  the  bed  over  to  the  door.  "  Make  as 
much  noise  as  you  can."  And  over  my  shoulder, 
as  I  dragged  the  bed  away  from  the  other  door,  I 
could  see  that,  whether  he  understood  or  not,  at  least 
he  was  doing  his  mechanical  best.  I  pushed  the 
iron  bed  away  with  a  great  heave,  and  pulled  open 
the  door.  As  I  had  expected,  I  found  the  room 
before  me  empty,  save  for  the  still  senseless  form 
of  my  late  adversary ;  and  the  door  into  the  hall  was 
open.  I  slipped  across  the  room  to  it  on  tiptoes, 
and  peered  out  into  the  hall.  Mrs.  Olsen,  Doctor 
May  hew,  and  the  man  I  took  to  be  the  janitor,  were 
gathered  outside  the  door  of  the  room  I  had  just 
quitted. 

"  Bolts  are  half  buckled  already,"  I  heard  Doctor 
Mayhew  say.  "  He'll  be  through  in  another  min- 
ute. Stand  ready  with  your  slug-shot,  Mat.  He's 
too  strong  to  stand  any  nonsense  with.  Get  back 
a  step  or  two,  Mrs.  Olsen;  when  the  door  breaks 
open,  he'll  tumble  out  with  a  rush." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Mr.  Bond's  kicks  were  grow- 
ing rather  feeble,  that  in  another  .moment  they  must 
detect  the  substitution,  so  that  I  gathered  myself 
together  and  came  down  the  little  space  of  hall  with 


THE  DARK  ROOM  271 

a  rush,  pushing  Mrs.  Olsen  roughly  aside  as  I  passed 
her,  and  giving  the  man  with  the  slug-shot  a  blow 
that  sent  him  against  Doctor  Mayhew.  I  had  no 
time  now  to  stop  for  Mrs.  Lathrop.  She  was  in  no 
immediate  danger  and  I  could  come  back  for  her, 
but  Nancy  was  in  the  "  dark  room,"  a  place,  it 
seemed  to  me,  probably  located  in  the  cellar ;  so  I  ran 
the  rest  of  the  way  down  the  hall,  plunged  down  the 
stairs,  and  set  about  looking  for  a  stairway  that 
would  lead  me  into  the  basement.  Above  me  I 
could  hear  Mrs.  Olsen  calling  loudly  for  help.  I 
thought  of  the  guards  on  the  outside  of  the  building, 
and  running  to  the  front  door,  made  sure  that  it  was 
locked,  and  dropped  the  great  key  into  my  pocket. 
The  office  door  was  closed  now,  but  I  threw  it  open 
and  stepped  in.  A  dark-haired  young  woman 
whom  I  took  to  be  our  little  mercenary  cowered  be- 
fore me  into  a  corner. 

"  Quick,"  I  said ;  "  show  me  where  the  '  dark 
room '  is." 

"  Oh,"  she  moaned,  "  oh,  oh !  What  have  you 
done,  what  have  you  done?  I  did  not  know  it  was 
going  to  be  like  this.  They  will  kill  me  for  it,  if 
they  find  out.  Go  away,  oh,  do  go  away." 

"  Nonsense,"  I  said ;  "  no  one  is  going  to  hurt 
you.  Show  me  where  that  dark  room  is." 

"  I  dare  not,"  she  said  piteously.  "  They  will 
kill  me,  I  tell  you." 


272     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  They'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  if  you'll  hurry. 
I'll  see  that  you  get  out  all  right.  Can  the  guard 
outside  get  in  any  way  but  by  the  front  door?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  there  is  a  door  in  the  back. 
The  cook  would  let  them  in." 

"  Well,  show  me  that  first." 

She  shrank  still  farther  into  her  corner,  laughing 
and  sobbing  half  hysterically;  then,  with  a  little 
scream,  she  pointed  to  the  window.  I  looked  up 
to  see  the  bearded  face  of  the  guard  peering  through 
the  grating,  looking  at  us  both  in  fierce  amazement. 
I  picked  the  girl  up  in  my  arms  and  carried  her, 
faintly  struggling,  to  the  hall. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  if  you're  going  to  save  your 
precious  neck,  you'd  better  help  and  help  all  you  can. 
First  show  me  that  other  door  and  then  the  dark 
room." 

To  my  surprise  she  had  stopped  crying  and,  as 
we  passed  under  the  dim  hall  light,  she  glanced  up 
at  me  with  a  sidelong  flash  of  her  black  eyes. 

''You're  awfully  strong,"  she  said  as  I  set  her 
down,  as  if  she  had  made  an  important  discovery, 
and,  slipping  her  hand  into  mine,  she  ran  with  me 
along  the  hall,  passing  through  the  one  which  bi- 
sected it  at  right  angles  and  on  toward  the  rear  of 
the  building,  where  she  stopped  before  another  door 
with  her  hand  at  her  heart. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "what  is  it?" 

The  hand  which  I  held  in  my  own  tightened. 


THE  DARK  ROOM  273 

"The  cook,"  she  said;  "what  can  you  do  with 
him?" 

On  the  floor  above  Mrs.  Olsen  was  still  scream- 
ing, gathering  vocal  power,  it  seemed  to  me,  with 
every  passing  second.  I  fumbled  at  the  knob  be- 
fore me  and,  throwing  the  door  open  at  last,  stepped 
into  the  shadowed  dimness  of  the  great  kitchen, 
pulling  the  maid  in  after  me. 

"  He  sleeps  on  a  cot  in  the  corner,"  she  whispered ; 
"  shall  I  turn  up  the  gas  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  and,  dropping  her  hand,  I  closed 
the  door  after  us,  shutting  out  the  growing  pande- 
monium above. 

In  the  sudden  silence  I  heard  the  peaceful  sound 
of  a  throaty  snoring;  then  the  dim  gas-jet  leaped  into 
full  power  and  the  snoring  stopped  with  a  rumbling 
snort.  Under  its  brilliance  stood  our  little  merce- 
nary, her  olive  cheeks,  still  wet  with  tears,  now 
flushing  like  a  pomegranate,  her  primly  dressed  hair 
in  some  disarray,  her  black  eyes  snapping  with  ex- 
citement. She  held  her  clasped  hands  high,  leaning 
her  cheek  against  them,  like  a  school-girl  at  the 
crisis  of  her  first  play,  a  vivid  bit  of  color  in  the 
great  raftered  room.  Her  eyes  flashed  to  mine  with 
the  same  look  I  had  seen  in  the  hall,  a  smile  stirred 
at  her  lips,  and  she  slowly  turned  her  head  and 
nodded  toward  the  corner. 

There,  on  a  low  cot,  a  big,  blue-black  negro  was 
sitting  up,  a  barbaric  figure  in  ebony,  swathed  in  the 


274     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

voluminous  folds  of  a  red  flannel  nightgown,  a  gar- 
ment redder  and  more  vivid  even  than  the  great 
cavern  of  his  slowly  gaping  mouth,  where  a  row  of 
incredible  teeth  gleamed  and  glistened.  He  rubbed 
his  eyes  sleepily  and  stared  at  me,  and  rolled  them 
solemnly  around  to  the  girl  under  the  gas-jet. 

"  Yassah,"  he  said,  "  yassah.  I'se  awake,  sah." 
He  was  evidently  too  sleepy  to  have  quite  taken  us  in. 

"  Lock  the  back  door,  please,"  I  said  to  the  girl, 
"  and  bring  me  the  key."  While  she  ran  to  do  it, 
I  turned  to  pull  down  the  shades.  There  were  no 
shades,  I  found,  but  better  yet,  there  were  heavy  in- 
side shutters,  which  unfolded  across  the  windows, 
and  which  I  had  but  to  drop  a  bar  in  place  to  secure. 
As  I  shut  the  last  one  I  saw  the  dim  figure  of 
the  guard  in  the  darkness  outside ;  and  in  a  moment 
more  he  tried  the  door  which  we  had  locked.  Now, 
with  the  shutters  closed,  the  place  was  like  a 
fortress. 

"Who  ah  yo'?    One  o'  they  loonytics?" 

The  big  black  was  fully  awake  now,  and  stood 
like  an  impossible  pillar  of  fire,  based  and  capped 
with  coal,  beside  the  cot  that,  by  some  miracle,  had 
held  him.  He  was  not  only  tall  but  monstrously 
fat,  so  that  the  voluminous  red  flannel  nightgown 
was  quite  tight  at  his  stomach.  The  girl  beside  me 
giggled  nervously. 

"  No,  I'm  not  a  lunatic,"  I  said.  "  Go  back  and 
go  to  sleep." 


THE  DARK  ROOM  275 

The  negro  rolled  his  eyes  over  me  with  growing 
suspicion  and  menace. 

"  Listen,"  he  said ;  "  who  dat  ?  Who  dat  a  yellin' 
and  a  yappin'  and  a  proclaimin'?  Sound  to  Abra- 
ham like  ole  Mis'  Olsen.  What  you-all  want  in 
Abraham's  kitchen?  Guess  ah  better  go  see  what's 
the  mattah." 

"  No,  you  hadn't,"  I  answered. 

"  Who-all's  goin'  to  stop  me  ? "  he  rumbled, 
scowling  at  me  with  a  wrinkled  frown,  where  sav- 
age menace  and  a  sort  of  minstrel  impudence  shared 
alike.  "  Who-all's  goin'  to  stop  Abraham  ?  That's 
what  ah  want  to  know." 

I  took  a  step  toward  him,  doubling  my  fists  as  I 
came. 

"  Get  back  in  that  bed !  "  I  said. 

To  my  surprise  he  gave  a  howl  of  terror  that 
was  half  a  shriek,  and  flopped  down  on  his  knees, 
fairly  groveling  before  me. 

"  Oh,  Lawd  Gawd,"  he  cried ;  "  oh,  Lawd  Gawd ! 
Save  pore  ole  Abraham."  Then  rolling  his  eyes  up 
to  me  again.  "  Please  go  wuffum  yere,  Mr.  Devil. 
Don't  put  yo'  red-hot  hand  on  Abraham." 

I  glanced  at  my  doubled  fist.  Somewhere  in  the 
last  few  minutes,  probably  when  I  had  dragged  the 
cot  away  from  the  door  up-stairs,  my  torn,  split 
glove  had  been  pulled  away  from  my  hand,  leaving 
it  the  bare  thing  which  even  I  did  not  like  to  see. 

Instinctively   I   slipped   my  hand   into   the   side 


2;6     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

pocket  of  my  coat.  "Come,"  I  said  to  the  girl, 
somewhat  gruffly,  "you're  to  show  me  where  the 
dark  room  is." 

She  smiled  back  at  me.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I 
know  I  am." 

Evidently  what  she  had  seen  had  not  frightened 
her,  and  I  liked  her  for  it. 

"How  about  him?"  she  asked,  pointing  to  the 
still  groveling  negro.  Then  standing  on  tiptoe  and 
pulling  me  down  until  she  could  whisper  close  in 
my  ear,  "  Do  you  dare  to  leave  him  here  ?  Won't 
he  undo  the  shutters  ?  " 

I  stirred  the  red  nightgown  with  my  foot. 

"  Get  up,"  I  said,  "  and  walk  ahead  of  me." 

At  the  touch,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  stood 
trembling. 

"  Where's  you-all  goin',  Mistah  Devil,"  he 
gasped ;  "  not  to  that  hot  place,  is  yo'  ?  S'cuse  me, 
but  ah  yo'  suah  yo'  ain'  made  no  mistake  ?  One  ole 
niggah  ain'  nothin'  to  yo',  an'  deed  it's  mighty 
seeyus  foh  me." 

Sweat  was  streaming  down  his  face,  which  had 
turned  slate-color. 

"I'll  think  about  it,"  I  said;  "get  a  lamp  and 
come  on,  or  perhaps  a  candle  would  do  just  as  well." 
For  his  fright  was  so  great  I  did  not  dare  to  trust 
him  with  a  lamp. 

So  we  went  out  to  the  hall  again  in  single  file, 
the  girl  walking  first  and  looking  back  at  us  every 


"  In  there,''  she  whispered 


THE  DARK  ROOM  277 

few  steps  over  her  shoulder.  The  cook  followed 
with  his  waving  candle,  and  I  walked  behind.  We 
walked  a  little  way  along  the  hall,  turned  into  a 
dark  archway,  and  went  down  a  steep  and  narrow 
flight  of  stairs. 

The  basement  was  as  intricate  as  the  house  above 
it.  The  dust  of  years  lay  there  thick  on  the  con- 
crete floor  and  piles  of  miscellaneous  lumber.  Our 
path  turned  from  right  to  left,  from  left  to  right 
again,  winding  through  lanes  of  barrels  and  boxes, 
past  latticed  storerooms  and  boarded  bins,  circled  an 
antiquated  furnace,  and  came  at  last  to  a  great 
square  of  mason  work,  beneath  w.hat  I  judged  was 
the  very  center  of  the  house.  The  stone  walls  ran 
up  solidly  to  the  raftered  ceiling,  and  must  have 
enclosed  a  place  about  eighteen  feet  square,  divided 
in  the  middle,  as  I  soon  found  out,  by  another  parti- 
tion of  stone,  each  division  having  a  heavy  door  of 
studded  iron  plates.  Both  doors  were  locked  and 
made  fast  by  large,  old-fashioned  padlocks,  and  I 
judged  that  these  dark  cells  had  been  originally  the 
wine  cellars  of  that  bygone  builder  of  the  unlovely 
castle.  To  my  relief  I  found  a  key  hanging  between 
the  doors. 

With  a  hand  which  shook  a  little  in  spite  of  me, 
I  undid  both  locks  and  dropped  them  to  the  floor, 
swinging  the  heavy  doors  wide  open. 

"  Nancy,"  I  whispered ;  then  louder,  "  Nancy !  " 

But  with  only  the  hollow  echo  of  my  own  voice 


2;8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

to  answer  me,  my  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating;  for 
I  thought  that  surely  Nancy  must  have  fainted  in 
that  horrible  darkness.  I  took  the  candle  from  the 
trembling  hand  of  the  negro  and  entered  the  cell  on 
my  left  hand.  An  old  mattress  lay  in  the  corner 
with  a  moldering  half-loaf  of  bread  beside  it.  The 
place  was  as  empty  and  desolate  as  a  tomb.  In  the 
doorway  loomed  the  cook,  following  me  with  rolling 
eyes  which  glimmered  white  in  the  candle-light.  I 
had  to  push  him  aside  to  pass  him  as  I  went  out. 
The  other  cell  was  absolutely  empty.  There  was 
not  even  a  mattress  there.  I  held  the  candle  high 
over  my  head  to  peer  into  its  darkest  corner. 

"  Look  out,"  the  girl  called,  in  a  queer,  half- 
muffled  little  voice. 

And  I  turned  about  to  find  her  struggling  val- 
iantly with  the  big  black  in  the  very  doorway,  one 
crushing  arm  about  her  neck  and  her  face  almost 
buried  in  the  folds  of  the  voluminous  nightgown. 
His  other  hand  dragged  the  door  toward  them.  I 
reached  them  with  a  bound  and  tore  the  negro's 
arm  away,  and  as  I  did  so,  some  of  the  hot  wax 
from  the  candle  must  have  spattered  on  his  hand, 
for  he  shrieked  aloud.  By  some  dark  mental  proc- 
ess he  had  come,  I  believe,  to  doubt  in  the  last  few 
moments  my  supernatural  powers,  and  with  the  op- 
portunity before  him  had  decided  to  take  this  chance 
of  getting  rid  of  me.  But  that  splash  of  hot  grease 


THE  DARK  ROOM  279 

took  all  the  fight  out  of  him,  and  again  he  groveled 
at  my  feet. 

"  It  buhns,  it  buhns,"  he  groaned;  "  all  dem  little 
fiahs  of  hell  is  lickin'  round  me." 

I  kicked  him  this  time  in  good  earnest.  The  girl 
had  gently  taken  the  candle  away  from  me,  holding 
it  high  that  I  might  see  better  and  leaving  my  hands 
free.  Now  she  pointed  into  the  cavern  of  darkness 
before  us. 

"  In  there,"  she  whispered. 

I  heard  a  trampling  on  the  floor  above.  Without 
more  ado,  I  pushed  the  negro  into  the  dark  room 
which  held  the  mattress,  slammed  shut  the  iron  door, 
and  snapped  the  padlock  into  place. 


XXVII 

ESCAPE 

OW,"  I  said,  "if  I  let  you  out,  can  you 
manage  to  slip  past  that  guard  and  get 
home  by  yourself?" 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  don't  believe  I  could.  I 
think  it  is  too  late  for  that  sort  of  thing,  anyhow. 
You  see  the  cook  has  seen  me  with  you  and  he  is 
sure  to  tell,  so  I  might  as  well  reconcile  myself  right 
now  to  losing  my  position." 

"  You  could  say  I  forced  you  to  help  me,"  I  said. 

She  had  turned  and  was  already  moving  away, 
and  I  followed  her  slowly,  gathering  myself  together 
for  the  work  before  me,  and  mechanically  picking 
my  way  through  the  cellar,  almost  forgetting  the 
existence  of  my  guide.  But  at  the  foot  of  the 
steep  basement  stairs  she  paused,  holding  the  candle 
so  that  her  face  was  in  the  shadow. 

"  You  see,  the  truth  is,"  she  said  abruptly,  "  that 
I  —  that  I  —  don't  want  to  go  home." 

*  Don't  want  to  go  home  ?  '  "  I  repeated. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  stay  here  and  watch 
what  happens.  I  won't  be  in  your  way." 

280 


ESCAPE  281 

And,  as  if  the  matter  were  settled,  she  tripped  on 
ahead  of  me  up  the  stairs. 

At  the  top  I  paused  and  listened.  Mrs.  Olsen's 
screams  had  stopped;  and,  in  its  deathly  silence,  the 
house  seemed  to  have  an  even  more  potent  malignity. 
I  knew,  certainly,  that  at  least  three  people  were 
listening  for  me,  three  people  whose  livelihood  I  was 
threatening,  whose  very  personal  liberty  was  im- 
periled the  moment  I  was  outside  of  the  place,  and, 
from  sheer  necessity,  they  were  bound  to  do  me 
harm.  Any  corner  I  turned  was  pregnant  with  evil 
possibility.  My  fear  was,  of  course,  that  I  should 
be  struck  from  behind,  or  shot  from  some  hiding- 
place  where  my  adversaries  could  lurk  unseen.  So 
that,  once  in  the  hall,  I  paused  and  listened  with  all 
my  ears;  for  now  I  was  frankly  afraid,  afraid  of 
an  attack  which  I  could  not  guard  against,  and 
which  might  leave  Nancy  alone  and  unprotected,  at 
the  mercy  of  a  danger  I  knew  only  too  well.  With 
all  my  heart  I  wished  I  had  come  to  the  place  with 
three  or  four  policemen  at  my  heels,  armed  and 
clothed  with  the  majesty  of  the  law.  But  although 
this  was  the  normal  and  rational  thing  to  have  done, 
I  had  put  it  aside  after  a  little  consideration;  for  I 
was  pretty  sure  that  such  a  place  as  this  must  have 
an  understanding  with  the  town  authorities,  and 
that,  even  if  I  persuaded  them  to  give  me  any  as- 
sistance, I  must  state  pretty  clearly  my  errand,  and 
so,  having  given  warning,  would  have  found  Nancy 


282     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

gone  and  everything  apparently  quite  regular.  And 
Nancy's  extremity  was  too  great  to  risk  awaiting  the 
unavoidable  delays  of  any  possible  interference  by 
the  state. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  whispered 
the  little  mercenary. 

"  I  suppose  the  only  thing  I  can  do,"  I  whispered 
back,  "is  to  make  a  room  to  room  search  of  the 
place." 

"  And  get  shot  at  the  first  corner?  "  she  asked,  as 
if  she  read  my  uneasiness. 

"  I'll  have  to  chance  that,"  I  replied ;  "  this  isn't 
getting  us  anywhere,  although  it  is  an  immense  re- 
lief to  know  he  lied  about  the  dark  room." 

She  looked  up  at  me  very  seriously,  then  smiled, 
snuffed  out  the  candle,  and  put  it  carefully  into  a 
corner.  It  seemed,  at  first,  as  if  we  were  in  the 
dark.  Then,  as  my  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the 
change,  I  saw  that  some  faint  glimmer  from  far 
down  the  hall  made  the  walls  about  us  dimly  visible. 
I  glanced  about  for  the  girl  beside  me,  and  to  my 
surprise  saw  her  already  tiptoeing  ahead.  I  stole 
after  her  swiftly  and  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  I  asked  angrily.  "  If  I 
let  you  stay,  you  must  come  behind.  Don't  you 
realize  they  might  kill  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  she  whispered ;  "  and,  you 
see,  it  is  the  only  way.  It  isn't  me  they  want,  it's 
you,  and  if  I  go  ahead,  at  least  they  can't  surprise 


ESCAPE  283 

you.  Please,  please  let  me,"  she  went  on,  with  a 
little  catch  at  her  breath,  as  I  still  held  out.  "  I 
have  never  done  anything  for  anybody  before.  I 
have  never  been  of  any  real  use.  I'm  not  going  to 
run  much  risk  now ;  and  it  is  worth  it  for  —  for  the 
young  lady,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  simply,  "  it  is  worth  it,"  and  I  let 
her  go  again. 

She  gave  a  little  sigh  that  was  half  a  laugh,  and 
stole  forward  along  the  hall,  pausing  every  once 
in  a  while  to  listen.  At  the  transverse  hall  she  did 
not  turn  to  the  stairs  as  I  had  expected;  but,  when 
she  had  made  sure  it  was  empty,  she  crossed  it  and 
kept  on  straight  for  the  front  door  and  the  office. 
I  hesitated  for  a  second,  and  then  tiptoed  after  her ; 
for,  after  all,  she  was  right.  From  the  basement  we 
had  certainly  heard  steps  on  this  floor,  and  it  was 
better  now  to  find  if  it  was  really  empty  before  we 
started  to  the  second  story;  for  if  we  left  any  one 
behind  us  they  might  in  some  way  get  out  of  the 
building  and  get  additional  reinforcement,  or,  even 
should  this  prove  impossible,  it  was  an  added  danger 
to  have  any  one  at  our  backs.  At  the  office  door 
she  stopped  again,  one  hand  held  up  to  keep  me 
where  I  was,  but  I  tiptoed  on  till  I  stood  beside  her. 
The  light  was  still  burning  in  the  office,  and  through 
the  open  door  was  wafted  the  unmistakable  smell 
of  a  very  good  cigar.  I  pushed  the  girl  back  and 
stepped  into  the  office. 


284     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Well/'  said  Doctor  Mayhew,  "  I  have  been  ex- 
pecting you  for  some  minutes." 

He  was  tilting  back  in  a  chair  behind  the  desk, 
and  with  the  words,  he  blew  out  a  tremendous  cloud 
of  smoke,  with  an  elaborate  air  of  unconcern.  I 
had  come  into  the  room  half  crouched  for  a  spring, 
tensely  ready  to  leap  or  strike  at  any  least  sign  of 
awaiting  hostility,  so  that  this  cool  greeting  came 
to  me  with  all  the  unsettling  force  of  the  unexpected. 

"  Well,  now  that  I  have  found  you,"  I  said,  "  I 
think  that  you  can  be  of  some  use  to  me." 

Doctor  Mayhew  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  How  ?  " 
he  asked,  and  for  the  first  time  I  noticed  that,  in 
spite  of  his  easy  manner,  much  of  his  high  color  was 
gone,  and  that  the  hand  which  held  the  cigar  trem- 
bled a  little. 

"  I  came  here,"  I  said,  "  as  you  probably  know 
well  enough,  for  one  of  your  so-called  '  patients.' ' 

"  It  seems  to  me  you've  gone  about  it  in  a  strange 
way,"  he  said.  "  If  you  had  addressed  yourself  to 
me  in  the  first  place,  I  am  quite  sure  there  would 
have  been  no  trouble.  If  you  are  dissatisfied  with 
the  treatment  your  aunt  is  receiving  here,  even  now 
you  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  take  her  away." 

"  Come,"  I  said  angrily ;  "  you  are  wasting  time. 
Are  you  going  to  show  me  where  you  have  put  Miss 
Bond,  or  am  I  to  be  under  the  necessity  of  hurting 
you?" 

'Miss  Bond,"  he  answered,  in  pained  surprise; 


ESCAPE  285 

"  I  was  under  the  impression  that  you  called  your 
aunt  Mrs.  Lathrop.  Just  what  right  have  you  to 
interfere  with  Miss  Bond?" 

I  took  an  angry  step  toward  him.  "  I  am  that 
'  delusion  '  of  hers,  if  you  like,"  I  said.  "  I  know 
she  has  talked  the  matter  over  with  you,  for  I 
heard  her." 

"  You  heard  her  ?  "  said  Doctor  Mayhew,  in  what 
seemed  to  me  a  very  genuine  surprise. 

'  Yes,  from  the  ivy  outside  her  window,"  I  an- 
swered impatiently.  I  am  her  husband,  Doctor 
Mayhew,  and  I  have  come  for  her." 

Doctor  Mayhew  whistled.  "  So  that's  true,  then," 
he  said ;  "  then  you  are  —  er  —  Mason  Ellsworth." 

I  nodded.     Doctor  Mayhew  frowned. 

"  I  hope  you  will  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  this  is 
a  genuine  surprise  to  me.  Miss  Bond  was  brought 
here  by  a  medical  man,  a  man  whom  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  is  honest.  She  is,  in  fact,  out  of 
my  jurisdiction.  I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Ellsworth,  but,  at 
the  moment,  I  don't  see  what  I  can  do  to  help  you. 
Even  if  you  had  come  to  me  in  a  proper  manner, 
I  should  be  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do.  It  is 
very  unfortunate  that  you  did  not  tell  me  what  you 
wanted  in  the  first  place,  for  then  I  might  have  been 
able  to  do  something.  As  it  is  I  have  sent  for  the 
police." 

"The  police?  "I  asked. 

"  Certainly.     You  can  hardly  deny  that  you  have 


286     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

been  guilty  of  breaking  in  and  assault.  But  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do." 

He  got  up  from  his  chair  and  came  around  to  my 
side  of  the  desk.  "  I  see  that  there  has  been  some 
sort  misunderstanding.  I'll  let  you  get  away,  if 
you  want,  and  agree  not  to  press  the  matter  any 
further." 

"  Get  away,"  I  laughed ;  "  why  you  can't  even  get 
out  of  the  place  yourself.  If  you  won't  help  me 
willingly,  I  am  going  to  take  you  along  as  best  I 
can." 

The  doctor  lowered  his  voice ;  his  plump  face  took 
on  an  expression  of  unspeakable  guile. 

"  Don't  be  too  hasty,"  he  said.  "  Why  not  settle 
this  matter  peacefully,  Mr.  Ellsworth?  We're  both 
of  us  sensible  men  and  should  be  able  to  come  to  an 
understanding.  If  you  will  sit  down  there  and 
write  me  a  full  release  and  your  check  say  for  — 
well,  for  five  thousand  dollars,  I  will  manage  some- 
how to  send  the  young  lady  to  you  to-morrow 
morning." 

He  had  taken  up  again  his  habit  of  pacing  the 
floor. 

"  Doctor  Mayhew,"  I  said,  "  I  wouldn't  trust  you 
with  a  blind  man's  pennies,  since  we  are  speaking  as 
one  man  to  another." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  Doctor  Mayhew  answered. 
"Mat!" 

From  somewhere  behind  the  great  oblong  desk 


ESCAPE  287 

arose  the  man  I  had  seen  on  the  floor  above.  His 
slug-shot  had  been  laid  aside  for  a  revolver. 

In  his  pacing  the  doctor  had  got  between  me 
and  the  door,  and  now  threw  his  arms  about  me 
from  behind. 

"  Come  over  and  get  him,  Mat,"  he  said. 

I  stood  passively,  knowing  that  I  should  not  be 
shot  at  with  the  doctor  behind  me,  for  a  bullet  of 
any  caliber  would  pierce  us  both;  so  that  I  let  my 
arms  drop  at  my  side,  as  if  the  odds  were  at  last  too 
great  for  me;  and  as  Mat  came  within  reach  I 
wrenched  myself  away  from  the  doctor's  foolish 
hold,  and  struck  the  man  with  the  revolver  reeling 
back  against  the  desk.  He  dropped  the  weapon  as 
he  fell,  and  I  stamped  on  Doctor  Mayhew's  fingers 
as  he  reached  for  it,  so  that  he  yelled  with  pain  like 
a  little  boy.  Then  I  stepped  back  to  the  doorway 
and,  with  the  little  mercenary  at  my  heels,  raced 
for  the  stairs. 

There  was  a  muffled  sound  of  hubbub  in  the  upper 
hall,  a  trampling  of  feet,  a  stifled  scream,  and  then, 
to  my  astonishment,  a  trill  of  pealing  laughter ;  then 
again  the  scuffle  and  the  trampling.  I  had  just  de- 
cided that  this  came  from  Mrs.  Lathrop's  room, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  down  the  dim  hall,  her 
hand  still  hesitant  upon  the  latch,  poised  as  lightly 
and  as  straight  and  fair  as  some  young  goddess, 
Nancy  stood  looking  about  her. 

In  a  moment,  and  almost  before  I  could  move, 


288     -THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

she  had  seen  me  and  ran  joyfully  forward,  straight 
into  my  arms;  her  own  she  flung  about  my  neck, 
and  I  caught  her  to  me  and  kissed  her  in  a  blinding 
wave  of  happiness.  For  a  little  neither  of  us  spoke, 
only  she  clung  very  closely  to  me;  while  a  meas- 
ureless relief  and  joy  surged  dizzily  at  my  heart  and 
brain. 

Nancy  gave  a  little  sigh  and  stirred  gently  in  my 
arms.  "  You  must  let  me  go,  Mason,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  No,  right  away,"  as  I  held  her  closer.  "  Listen, 
Mason,  do  listen.  We  must  hurry,  hurry,  you 
understand.  Mrs.  Olsen  is  in  there  with  Mrs.  La- 
throp.  Come,  you  must  help  her  right  away."  She 
tugged  in  imploring  impatience  at  my  hand. 

"  Mrs.  Olsen,"  I  repeated,  trying  to  clear  my 
brain. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nancy ;  "  she  came  into  my  room 
and  got  me,  you  know,  and  put  me  in  with  Mrs. 
Lathrop.  A  little  while  ago  she  came  back,  and 
Mrs.  Lathrop  was  waiting  for  her,  and  —  oh,  do 
hurry,  Mason." 

"  All  right,"  I  said;  "  but  I'm  not  going  to  let  you 
out  of  my  sight  again  for  any  Mrs.  Lathrop." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Nancy.     "  Hurry." 

Now  that  I  thought  about  it  again,  I  heard  that 
the  trampling  still  continued,  and  as  we  reached  the 
room,  another  muffled  shriek  sounded  from  within. 
I  threw  the  door  wide  open,  and  gasped  with  sur- 


ESCAPE  289 

prise  at  the  strange  sight  within.  A  great  striped, 
blue-ticked  pillow  lay  at  my  very  feet.  The  floor 
was  a  tangled  swirl  of  sheets  and  blankets,  and  over 
it  gyrated  a  broad  and  apparently  headless  figure,  to 
which  a  very  rumpled  Mrs.  Lathrop  clung  with  little, 
wiry  arms. 

"  What  on  earth !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  A  pillow  case,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  over  her 
shoulder,  as  the  whirling  headless  figure  swung  her 
half  off  her  feet.  "  Get  a  sheet  and  tie  her  up. 
Can't  you  see  I'm  busy  ?  " 

I  snatched  a  sheet  from  the  floor,  and  after  some 
difficulty  succeeded  in  swathing  Mrs.  Olsen  in  it  like 
a  mummy,  and  laying  her  on  the  bare  springs  of 
the  bed. 

"  I  snuffed  her  out  like  a  candle,"  Mrs.  Lathrop 
chuckled,  gaspingly,  as  she  twisted  her  disordered 
hair  into  place.  "  Thank  Heaven,  that  pillow  case 
was  new  and  not  as  acid-rotted  as  the  rest  of  the 
bedclothes.  I  was  waiting  for  her  as  she  came  in. 
I  guess  we're  about  square  now."  She  pushed  a 
long  hair-pin  home  and  sighed  contentedly. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  she  will  at  least  do  very  well 
where  she  is.  And  now  I  think  we'd  better  be 
going." 

Indeed,  I  momentarily  began  to  dread  a  fresh  at- 
tack from  Doctor  Mayhew  and  his  man. 

I  glanced  up  anxiously.  Nancy  was  standing  in 
the  doorway  and,  behind  her  in  the  hall  stood  the 


290     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

little  mercenary.     Following  my  gaze  Mrs.  Lathrop 
caught  sight  of  her. 

"  Well,  Flora,"  she  said,  "  on  the  whole  you  have 
done  very  nicely.  Suppose  you  run  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs  so  you  can  let  us  know  if  any  one's  coming. 
Now,  Mason  Ellsworth,  how  do  you  propose  to  get 
us  poor  women  out  of  here?  " 

"  I'm  not  quite  sure,"  I  said ;  "  either  by  the  front 
door  or  by  the  back  door.  I'll  have  to  see  how 
things  are  below." 

"Then,"  Mrs.  Lathrop  chirped,  with  a  trium- 
phant glance  backward  at  the  bundled  form  of  Mrs. 
Olsen,  "  you  go  on  ahead  and  Nancy  and  I  will  come 
after  you." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  I  said,  when  we  got  into  the 
hall ;  "  I  have  a  scheme." 

And  leaving  them  standing  together,  I  ran  to  the 
room  where  I  had  been  trapped,  and  swung  Doctor 
Morrison  up  on  my  shoulder.  I  found  him  lying 
in  the  same  position,  groaning  a  little  with  some 
slight  signs  of  returning  life;  but  over  my  shoulder 
he  lay  limply  enough,  with  swaying  arms  that 
thudded  against  my  back  as  I  ran.  Nancy  turned 
white  and  gave  a  little  gasp  as  I  came  back  with 
him.  Mrs.  Lathrop  skipped  around  behind  me  to 
make  sure  who  it  was  that  I  carried. 

"  Good  boy,"  she  said,  in  such  a  triumphantly 
sporting  tone  and  with  such  an  indescribable 
emphasis  of  a  fellow  conqueror,  that,  for  all  the 


ESCAPE  291 

grave  work  still  before  me,  I  laughed  in  spite  of 
myself. 

The  little  mercenary  met  us  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs,  her  eyes  round  with  wonder  at  the  burden  I 
carried. 

"  I've  been  all  the  way  down,"  she  said,  flushing, 
with  a  sudden  little  sidelong  look  at  Nancy. 
"  They  are  still  in  the  office,  I  think." 

"  All  right,"  I  said ;  "  just  keep  behind  us." 

In  that  order  we  went  down.  Once  on  the  stairs 
I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  at  Nancy,  and  she  smiled 
at  me  bravely,  although  her  eyes  shunned  the  head 
that  dangled  at  my  back.  At  the  corner,  before  I 
turned  into  the  longer  hall,  I  shifted  the  weight  on 
my  shoulder,  until  I  held  him,  awkward  in  his  great 
bulk,  before  me. 

We  had  come  almost  to  the  office  before  Doctor 
Mayhew  made  any  sign.  Then  he  stepped  into  the 
hall  with  the  other  man  at  his  heels.  The  office 
must  have  held  quite  an  armament ;  for  I  had  already 
taken  one  revolver  from  Doctor  Mayhew,  and  now, 
not  only  was  he  holding  another  in  his  uninjured 
hand,  but  his  man  had  one  also. 

"  Keep  behind  me  in  single  file,"  I  said  to  the 
others,  "  so  that  I  am  directly  in  front  of  you." 

I  clasped  Doctor  Morrison  to  me  with  one  arm, 
and  with  the  other  hand  drew  Doctor  Mayhew's  lost 
revolver  from  my  pocket;  and  so  we  bore  steadily 
down  upon  them.  Doctor  Mayhew  raised  his  re- 


292     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

volver ;  then  lowered  it,  when  he  saw  what  shield  I 
carried  in  front  of  me.  The  man  with  him  would 
have  shot,  I  think,  whether  or  no,  had  Mayhew  not 
struck  up  his  hand ;  for  his  eyes  blazed  at  me  furi- 
ously, and,  as  I  came  near,  I  saw  that  his  jaw  hung 
loosely,  as  if  it  had  been  broken. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  get  back  into  that  office  and 
shut  the  door  behind  you." 

Doctor  Mayhew  shifted  nervously,  but  neither  of 
them  obeyed  me;  so  I  shot  safely  over  their  heads. 
At  that  Mayhew  bolted  for  the  office,  and  although 
the  other  man  lingered  threateningly,  another  and 
closer  shot  made  him  follow  after.  He  did  not  shut 
the  door;  but  before  I  could  stop  her,  the  maid  had 
left  the  line  behind  me,  and  skimming  down  the  hall, 
close  to  the  office  side,  had  reached  the  door  and 
slammed  it  after  them.  I  followed  as  fast  as  I 
was  able,  and  propped  my  burden  against  it,  as 
some  makeshift  against  its  sudden  opening;  and 
while  the  women  crowded  about  me,  Nancy  close 
at  my  side,  I  got  the  big  key  from  my  pocket,  and 
turned  the  grumbling  lock  between  us  and  freedom, 
then  took  it  out  again,  and  opened  the  ponderous 
door  upon  the  sweet  air  of  early  morning.  Before 
I  could  close  and  lock  it  behind  us,  there  came  an 
irregular  scurry  of  feet  along  the  hall,  two  hands 
beat  frantically  on  the  other  side,  and  through  the 
narrowing  opening  Ephraim  Bond  squeezed  out, 
and  collapsed  on  the  steps  at  our  feet. 


XXVIII 

AN    OLD    FRIEND 

"OAKES  alive!"  gasped  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  an- 
O  other  of  them?     Is  that  a  patient  or  one 

of  the  jailers?  " 

"It  seems  to  have  been  a  patient,"  I  answered; 

"  and  I'm  afraid  he  isn't  quite  as  harmless  as  he 

looks.     I'm  not  even  sure  that  I  ought  to  let  him 

go." 

Nancy  was  already  stooping  tenderly  over  him, 
Now  she  recognized  him  with  a  little  start.  Never- 
theless there  was  no  fear  in  the  eyes  she  turned  to 
mine. 

"  Do  you  know  who  he  is,  Mason  ?  "  she  asked 
gravely. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea 
how  he  got  there.  We'd  better  not  put  him  back, 
I  suppose,  nor  do  I  think  we  need  concern  ourselves 
further  about  him  just  now.  I  have  things  to  say 
to  him,  but  they  can  wait.  I  want  to  speak  to 
Doctor  Mayhew  for  a  moment,  then  we  must  get 
back  to  the  inn." 

Close  to  the  ivy  I  crept  along  the  side  of  the 
building  until  I  came  to  the  office  window. 

293 


294     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"Doctor  Mayhew,"  I  called,  without  showing 
myself. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  a  voice  from  inside 
answered  sulkily. 

"  Just  this,"  I  said.  "  You're  locked  in  now  and 
I  have  the  keys  of  both  the  front  and  the  back 
door,  so  that  I  think  you'll  have  some  trouble  in 
getting  out.  I  do  not  know  how  long  you  have 
been  running  this  place;  but  you  ought  to  be  in 
jail  for  running  it  at  all,  and  you  know  it.  I 
propose,  however,  to  give  you  a  chance.  I  imagine, 
from  what  you  said  to  Mrs.  Ellsworth  the  other 
evening,  that  you  have  at  least  some  spark  of  de- 
cency. You  had  better  encourage  it.  I  am  going 
to  send  the  keys  back  to  you  in  an  hour  or  so.  In 
the  next  week  I  expect  you  to  arrange  to  have  all 
your  '  patients  '  taken  back  to  their  homes.  After 
that,  if  you'll  take  my  advice,  you  will  engage  passage 
as  soon  as  possible  for  Europe,  where  you'd  better 
arrange  to  pass  the  remainder  of  your  life  in  some 
degree  of  decency.  For  I  am  going  to  give  you 
just  long  enough  to  undo  the  harm  you  have  done 
here,  or  at  least  to  undo  it  to  what  measure  you 
are  able,  and  to  get  safely  to  the  other  side.  This 
should  take  not  more  than  two  weeks.  After  that 
I  am  going  to  swear  out  a  warrant  for  your  arrest." 

Doctor  Mayhew's  face  appeared  at  the  window. 

"Will  you  swear  to  that,  Mr.  Ellsworth?"  he 
asked. 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  295 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  said ;  "  and  if  you  should  be 
suddenly  tempted  to  shoot  at  us  from  the  window, 
you  can  count  on  being  arrested  before  the  day 
is  over.  On  the  whole,  don't  you  think  I  am  treat- 
ing you  pretty  well,  Doctor  May  hew  ?  " 

'  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  you  are.  It  was  a 
mistake,  I'll  admit,  to  hold  Miss  Bond,  but  our  san- 
atorium has  always  ranked  — " 

"  Rubbish,"  I  interrupted.  "  Turn  your  first  new 
leaf  by  getting  over  that  trick  of  perjury.  You 
have  two  weeks,  Doctor  Mayhew.  Good-by.  It  is 
understood,  of  course,  that  you  pay  all  '  patients' ' 
expenses  home." 

He  nodded  dumbly. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  I  called  back,  as  I  turned  to 
go,  "  you'll  find  Mrs.  Olsen  up-stairs  in  my  aunt's 
pretty  room,  and  if  you  want  breakfast,  you'll 
have  to  let  your  cook  out  of  the  cellar.  I  locked 
the  poor  fellow  in  one  of  those  dark  cells." 

It  had  momently  been  growing  lighter,  and 
now  the  gray  of  early  morning  trembled  and  flushed 
with  the  imminent  dawn.  Streamers  and  pennants 
of  rose  and  beryl  were  flung  from  the  expectant 
eastern  horizon  to  the  zenith,  across  the  heaven's 
pale  amethyst,  broadening  and  merging,  until  all 
the  east  glowed  in  a  gold-shot  glory,  a  tender,  in- 
effable wonder  of  coming  dawn. 

We  must,  I  think,  have  looked  a  strange  group 
in  the  magic  light  of  that  May  morning.  Mrs. 


296 

Lathrop,  although  she  had  set  herself  somewhat  to 
rights,  had  something  of  the  impudent,  roystering 
air  lent  by  ruffled  plumage,  and  her  usual  stay-at- 
home  pallor  was  stained  by  the  flush  of  triumphant 
excitement.  The  dark  face  of  the  little  maid  wore 
two  high  spots  of  color,  and  her  great  eyes  looked 
tired  and  feverish,  while  her  primness,  like  that  of 
Mrs.  Lathrop's,  seemed  rumpled  and  tumbled  out 
of  reality.  Ephraim  Bond,  shrinking  half  behind 
them,  looked  smaller  than  my  memory  of  him,  a 
wispish,  white  shred  of  a  man,  a  flayed  soul  cring- 
ing before  the  beauty  of  the  day.  And  I  knew 
myself  to  look  no  more  normal  than  the  rest.  My 
clothes  were  torn  and  dirty;  my  face  smutched  and 
streaked  with  cobwebs,  my  left  hand  half  covered 
by  a  torn  glove,  my  right  hideous  in  unaccustomed 
nakedness.  Of  us  all  Nancy  alone  seemed  neither 
garish  nor  out  of  place,  but  stood  with  the  dawn's 
glory  in  her  eyes,  as  fresh  and  fair  and  lovely  as 
some  new-awakened  flower,  seeming  herself  the  very 
embodiment  of  the  soft  fires  of  dawn, 'as  if  morn- 
ing itself  yearned  toward  her  and  in  very  ecstasy 
spread  the  earth  as  a  carpet  for  her  feet. 

She  must  have  felt  my  look ;  for  slowly  and  con- 
fidently she  turned  her  eyes  to  mine,  bride  eyes, 
that  bared  for  me  the  tender  eternal  mystery  of 
the  soul  within,  held  my  own  for  an  infinite  in- 
stant, and  again  were  softly  veiled,  deep  mirrors 
of  the  joy  of  sunrise.  From  some  near-by  meadow 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  297 

a  thrush  burst  suddenly  into  song,  a  cascading, 
liquid  trill  of  rapturous  melody.  Nancy  smiled 
with  it  and  stretched  out  her  hand  to  me,  and  with- 
out a  spoken  word  we  turned  our  backs  upon  the 
nightmare  of  the  ivied  building,  and  took  the  road 
toward  the  village.  Somewhere  behind  us  the 
others  followed  —  already  I  had  forgotten  them. 
For  a  while  we  still  went  on  in  silence,  walking  hand 
in  hand,  as  two  children  might.  The  sun  now  was 
fairly  risen,  and  on  all  sides  of  us  dew-laden  grass 
and  leaf  flashed  and  sparkled.  Song  sparrows 
leaped  to  hedge  tops  at  our  coming,  fluttered  and 
poised  a  moment,  warbled  snatches  of  their  morn- 
ing roundelays  and  fluttered  on  to  some  new  vantage 
point.  Nancy  sighed  contentedly. 

"  I  was  not  afraid,"  she  said,  "  not  at  all  afraid, 
except  for  you,  for  I  knew  that  you  would  come 
and  that  everything  would  be  all  right.  But  oh, 
Mason  dear,  I  am  glad  that  it  is  over.  It  was  the 
waiting,  I  think,  that  was  the  hardest." 

"  Do  you  care,"  I  asked,  "  to  go  home  again  ? 
Home,  I  mean,  where  I  first  took  you,  or  does  the 
place  frighten  you  now  ?  " 

Nancy  shook  her  head.  "  I  hoped  you  would 
want  to  go  there,  Mason,  because  of  so  many  things ; 
good  things,  that  were  so  much  bigger  than  the 
bad." 

From  somewhere  ahead  of  us  I  heard  a  faint 
throbbing,  a  muffled  pulsation  of  sound  that  grew 


298     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

steadily  louder.  Nancy  looked  up  at  me  inquir- 
ingly. We  both  stopped  and  listened.  Over  the 
crest  of  a  hill,  about  half  a  mile  away,  appeared  an 
automobile,  a  little,  sweeping  thing  that  came  down 
the  road  at  gathering  speed,  breaking  the  quiet  with 
an  increasing  roar,  and  growing  and  looming  as  it 
drew  near  like  some  red,  insane  monster,  taking 
a  senseless,  pre-prandial  rush  across  country.  Its 
red  paint  flashed  and  glittered,  and  a  long  trail  of 
dust  stretched  behind  it  over  the  road. 

We  stood  aside  to  let  it  pass,  but  it  slowed  down 
and  stopped,  panting  in  the  road  before  us.  A 
rather  grimy  young  fellow  in  dusty,  corded  livery 
sat  at  the  wheel,  and  beside  him  a  little  man  in 
goggles,  swaddled  in  an  enormous  ulster,  whose 
collar  nearly  reached  the  cloth  cap  which  he  had 
pulled  down  over  his  eyes.  The  little  man  beck- 
oned me  with  a  gauntleted  hand,  and  I  stepped 
across  to  the  car,  thinking  that  he  wanted  to  ask 
some  question  about  the  road. 

"  I'll  trouble  you,  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  he  said,  "  to 
act  quite  as  if  you  had  expected  me,  as  if  you  had 
—  a  —  employed  me,  in  fact,  to  come  and  pick 
you  up  on  this  fine  May  morning.  Is  that  Nancy 
Bond  there?  My  goggles  are  somewhat  dusty." 

"  How  on  earth,  Mr.  Ogilby,"  said  I,  "  did  you 
manage  to  get  here?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  it  some  other  time,"  he  said 
shortly.  "  Got  the  letter  you  mailed  day  before 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  299 

yesterday.  Took  train  to  Buffalo  and  hired  this 
car.  We  can  all  go  back  in  it.  It's  much  more 
private.  Where's  that  Mrs.  Lathrop?  By  the  way, 
I  congratulate  you.  Were  you  hurt?  " 

"No,"  I  said,  "and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that 
some  time.  Mrs.  Lathrop  should  be  right  behind 
us  somewhere.  I'm  afraid  I'd  rather  forgotten 
about  her." 

"  That's  her  coming  now,  I  guess,"  the  chauffeur 
observed. 

I  looked  back  down  the  road.  I  had  not  been 
conscious  that  Nancy  and  I  were  walking  fast,  but 
either  this  had  been  the  case,  or  the  others  had 
lagged  sorely;  for,  even  yet,  they  were  some  dis- 
tance behind;  Mrs.  Lathrop,  in  a  conversation  with 
the  maid,  which  was  plainly  animated;  Ephraim 
Bond  trailing  dejectedly  a  few  yards  behind  them. 

"  Yes,  that  is  Mrs.  Lathrop,"  I  told  Mr.  Ogilby. 
"  The  girl  with  her  is  one  of  the  maids  of  the  sana- 
torium." 

"  And  who,"  inquired  Mr.  Ogilby,  "  who  is  that 
behind  them  ?  Is  he  one  of  your  party  ?  " 

"  I  should  hardly  call  him  one  of  our  party,"  I 
laughed.  "  For  some  reason  I  do  not  yet  under- 
stand I  'found  him  locked  up  in  the  sanatorium. 
You  said  you  knew  him,  I  believe.  He  is  Ephraim 
Bond,  Nancy's  uncle." 

"  Ephraim  Bond !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ogilby,  as  if 
I  had  named  Beelzebub.  "  I  won't  have  him  in  the 


3oo     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

car,  do  you  understand?  I  won't  have  him  in  the 
car." 

He  rose  cautiously  from  his  seat  to  stare  back 
along  the  road,  brushing  his  gauntlets  across  his 
dusty  goggles,  and  after  a  long  scrutiny,  sitting 
down  with  a  chuckle. 

"  Locked  up  in  the  sanatorium,"  he  repeated  half 
to  himself.  "  Locked  up,  you  say  ?  Are  you  quite 
sure  of  that?" 

"  I  certainly  found  him  in  a  locked  room,"  I  re- 
plied. "  In  fact,  it  took  me  some  little  time  to  con- 
vince him  that  I  myself  was  not  responsible  for  his 
being  there." 

"  '  The  way  of  the  transgressor/  "  murmured  Mr. 
Ogilby.  "  It's  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard  in 
all  my  life.  Did  he  —  did  he  seem  to  like  it?  " 

"  He  was  under  two  emotions,"  I  replied,  "  fear 
and  rage." 

"  Well,  what  made  you  let  him  out  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered.  "  It  was  partly 
force  of  circumstances,  partly  because  he  is,  after 
all,  Nancy's  uncle,  you  know.  Besides,  I  have  a 
good  deal  to  say  to  him,  now  that  I  have  found 
him,  and  while  he  is  still  in  a  chastened  frame  of 
mind." 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby,  "  you  can  put  him 
in  the  tonneau.  We  will  take  him  back  as  far  as 
the  inn,  at  any  rate.  Then  we  shall  see.  You're 
not  to  expect  me  to  talk,  however.  As  I  have  said, 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  301 

I  have  some  acquaintance  with  him,  and  just  at 
present  I  am  very  anxious  that  he  should  not  recog- 
nize me.  Just  bundle  them  in  as  soon  as  they  come 
up,  and  give  your  orders  to  the  chauffeur  as  if  you 
quite  expected  us  to  meet  you." 

All  our  conversation  had  been  carried  on  almost 
in  whispers.  Now,  as  the  others  were  drawing 
near,  I  opened  the  door  of  the  tonneau,  and  beck- 
oning Nancy  from  the  roadside,  settled  her  in  the 
automobile. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  later,"  I  whispered  to 
her.  "Hurry,  Mrs.  Lathrop,"  I  called.  "We're 
not  going  to  wait  for  the  morning  train." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  came  up  with  some  surprise  in  her 
eyes. 

"  You  didn't  say  anything  to  me  about  an  auto- 
mobile," she  said ;  "  still  I  always  have  admired  the 
thought  of  riding  in  one."  And  she  hopped  into 
the  car,  smiled  at  Nancy,  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  Come,"  I  said  to  the  maid,  "  shall  we  take  you 
back  to  the  village?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  she  said.  "  No,  I  shall  not  go 
back  to  the  village,  Mr.  Ellsworth.  There  is  a 
short  cut  to  my  home  a  little  way  below  here,  and 
I  can  walk  there  easily  enough.  Do  you  think 
they'll  arrest  me  if  I  stay?  " 

"I'm  sure  they  won't,"  I  replied.  "I  think  I 
have  convinced  Doctor  Mayhew  of  the  absurdity  of 
making  trouble  for  any  one.  I  still  owe  you  some 


302     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

money  though,  you  may  remember.  Where  shall 
I  send  it?" 

She  flushed  and  hesitated.  "  Mr.  Ellsworth,"  she 
said,  "  I  would  rather  not  have  the  money." 

"That's  absurd,"  I  said;  "it's  a  bargain.  You 
have  earned  it." 

Her  color  grew  deeper,  and  as  she  raised  her 
dark  eyes,  I  saw  that  there  were  tears  in  them. 

"  Will  you  think  it  impertinent,"  she  asked,  "  if 
I  don't  take  it?  I  like  to  feel  that  —  that  perhaps 
I  have  been  of  some  help,  though  I  wanted  the 
money  badly  enough  at  first.  But  can't  you  believe 
that  I  forgot  about  it,  that  the  help  I  gave  you  in 
the  end  was  only  because  —  because  I  wanted  to 
of  my  own  free  will  ?  Can  you  possibly  think  of  a 
girl  like  me  as  —  as  a  friend,  Mr.  Ellsworth  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  I  replied,  suddenly  a  little  em- 
barrassed, "  and  there's  my  hand  on  it.  But  if 
you  get  into  any  straits,  a  letter  will  reach  me  ad- 
dressed to  the  Hotel  Gloria,  New  York  City." 

She  took  my  ungloved  hand  in  both  of  hers, 
looked  into  my  eyes  for  a  moment,  then  looked 
past  me  to  Nancy  and  back  to  me  again. 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  very  happy,"  she  said  and 
started  as  if  to  pass  us. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  I  said ;  "  I  want  to  ask  some- 
thing still  further  of  your  friendship." 

She  had  dashed  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  now 
she  was  smiling  at  me. 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  303 

"  I  want  you  to  take  these  keys,"  I  said,  "  and  see 
that  they  get  to  some  one  who  will  let  out  our  pris- 
oners. And  there  is  a  man  I  tied  up,  behind  that 
clump  of  bushes  opposite  the  sanatorium.  He  ought 
to  be  set  free  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  afraid  he 
is  pretty  cramped  already,  and  although  he  doesn't 
deserve  it,  I  am  going  to  let  him  go  this  time.  Can 
you  have  these  things  done  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes/'  she  said,  and  tucked  the  big  keys  into 
her  belt  "  Would  it  be  too  much  trouble,"  she 
asked  hesitatingly,  "  to  see  if  you  could  find  me 
a  place  in  a  good  hospital?  I  would  work  very 
hard,  Mr.  Ellsworth."  She  hesitated  again;  then, 
"  And  very  honestly,"  she  added. 

"  I  am  sure  of  that,"  I  answered  gravely. 
"  Write  me  at  the  Hotel  Gloria,  telling  me  about 
yourself,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do." 

She  went  over  to  the  automobile  and  said  good-by 
to  Nancy.  Mrs.  Lathrop  from  her  high  seat  patted 
her  on  the  shoulder,  and  both  called  good-by  after 
her  as  she  set  out  across  the  fields.  I  turned  to  find 
Ephraim  Bond  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
like  some  lost  soul  alone  in  infinite  space. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  hadn't  you  better  get  into  the 
automobile  ?  " 

He  started  as  if  he  had  been  struck,  and  without 
answering  me,  moved  apathetically  forward  and 
climbed  into  a  place  beside  Mrs.  Lathrop.  I  got  up 
after  him,  closing  the  door  after  me,  and  perched 


304     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

myself  on  the  upholstered  side  where  I  could  be 
close  to  Nancy. 

"  All  right,"  I  said;  "  let  her  go." 

The  soft  purr  of  the  waiting  motor  broke  ab- 
ruptly into  a  roar.  The  car  started  forward  with 
an  almost  imperceptible  jerk.  The  chauffeur  threw 
in  the  high,  stilling  the  motor  into  a  steady  drone, 
and  we  started  to  glide  up  the  gentle  hill  with  a 
growing  and  easy  velocity.  Fields  that  I  had  begun 
to  know  already  slipped  kaleidoscopically  behind  us, 
and  miles  that  had  seemed  long  to  walk  or  drive  were 
only  brief  ribbons  of  road  to  our  devouring  speed. 
At  the  inn  we  slowed  down  and  came  to  a  stop. 
It  was  full  daylight  now,  and  the  little  country 
village  was  already  astir.  Blinds  were  everywhere 
being  thrown  open  as  we  passed,  and  a  yawning 
hired  man  was  sousing  the  inn  steps  with  water. 

Mr.  Ogilby  whispered  something  tto  his  chauffeur, 
and  they  both  climbed  out  and  went  into  the  inn, 
in  the  door  of  which  the  chauffeur  presently  reap- 
peared and  beckoned  me. 

"  See  what  they  want,"  said  Nancy,  and  I  vaulted 
over  the  side  of  the  car  and  followed  the  chauffeur 
into  a  little  waiting-room,  where  I  found  Mr.  Ogilby 
waiting  for  me. 

"  I  have  decided,"  he  began  abruptly,  "  not  to  go 
on  any  farther.  The  car  is  really  carrying  too 
much  weight,  and  besides, —  well,  I've  determined  to 
go  back  by  train. 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  303 

"  No,  don't  argue  about  it,"  he  went  on,  as  I 
started  to  interrupt.  "  I  am  quite  determined. 
You're  to  take  the  car  and  use  it  as  long  as  you  like. 
That  is  all  arranged  for.  Can  you  run  it  your- 
self?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  I  said  in  my  surprise ;  "  but  - 

"  Please  don't  start  arguing,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby ; 
"  if  you  can  run  it,  go  out  and  do  it.  I'm  going  to 
keep  the  chauffeur  to  do  some  things  for  me.  You 
can  make  much  better  time  going  light.  Take  Nancy 
in  the  front  seat  with  you  and  make  a  pleasant  trip 
of  it.  If  you'll  take  my  advice,  though,  you  will 
drop  Ephraim  Bond  as  soon  as  you've  had  your 
talk  with  him,"  He  paused  with  a  sudden  chuckle. 
"  To  think  of  his  being  locked  up  in  that  sana- 
torium," he  said.  "  It's  the  funniest  thing  I  ever 
heard  in  my  life.  Well,  run  along  now.  I  have 
had  your  things  put  into  the  automobile.  You  will 
find  plenty  of  road  maps  under  the  driver's  seat. 
I  will  pay  your  bill  here.  Remember,  though,  you're 
not  to  talk  about  me." 

He  gave  my  hand  a  quick  grasp,  gave  me  a  lusty 
thwack  between  the  shoulders,  and  with  both  hands 
pushed  me  toward  the  door. 


XXIX 

THE   MAN   IN   THE   BROWN   DERBY 

«TT  THERE  are  your  friends?"  Mrs.  Lathrop 
VV  asked,  as  I  came  out  again  to  the  car 
and  started  cranking  up. 

"Friends?"  I  repeated,  remembering  Mr.  Ogil- 
by's  injunction.  "  Oh,  you  mean  the  two  men 
that  brought  the  car  to  meet  us.  They  aren't  going 
on  any  farther." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  Mrs.  Lathrop  replied,  but  I  do  not 
think  she  did  at  all;  for  I  had  told  her  something 
of  my  means,  and  this  sudden  acquisition  of  a  large 
automobile  must  have  nearly  strained  her  curiosity 
to  the  bursting  point.  Nevertheless,  she  crossed 
her  hands  in  resignation. 

"  I  only  hope,"  she  said,  leaning  back,  "  that  you 
have  some  idea  how  to  run  one  of  these  things,  and 
will  keep  in  mind  that  life  is  still  sweet  to  me,  Mr. 
Ellsworth." 

"  I  think  you  can  depend  on  me,"  I  answered ; 
"  and  Nancy,  if  she  will,  is  going  to  sit  in  front  with 
me,  which,"  I  added  maliciously,  "  will  give  you  an 
opportunity  for  a  little  tete-a-tete  with  Mr.  Bond. 
By  the  way,  I  beg  your  pardon;  I  am  afraid  you 

306 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY     307 

have  not  met  Mr.  Bond.  Mrs.  Lathrop,  may  I  in- 
troduce Mr.  Bond?  You  have  heard  me  speak  of 
him,  I  am  sure.  He  is  my  uncle-in-law,  and  he  is 
going  down  with  us  into  Pennsylvania." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  sniffed,  and,  I  regret  to  say,  winked 
at  me  portentously. 

"  Mr.  Bond,"  she  said,  "  you  don't  know  how 
pleased  I  am  to  meet  you.  Mason  has  said  so  much 
of  his  fairy  godfather." 

Ephraim  Bond  said  nothing,  and  looked  so  wan 
and  dazed  and  stricken  that  I  almost  found  it  in 
my  heart  to  be  sorry  for  him.  Mrs.  Lathrop  evi- 
dently was  made  of  sterner  stuff,  and  as  Nancy 
changed  into  the  front  seat,  I  heard  her  assuring 
him  of  the  joy  it  must  be  to  shower  blessings  with 
such  an  open  hand.  Then,  with  Nancy  by  my  side, 
and  the  open  road  before  me,  with  home  at  its 
farther  end,  I  forgot  about  them,  as  I  had  already 
done  once  that  morning.  For  a  little  while  we 
talked  in  monosyllables.  A  strange  shyness  seemed 
to  have  come  upon  Nancy;  and  acquainting  myself 
with  the  intricacies  of  an  unfamiliar  car  took  my 
mechanical  attention.  At  the  first  crossroads  we 
stopped,  and  I  had  out  my  road  maps;  for  it  oc- 
curred to  me  joyfully  that  I  need  not  take  the 
roundabout  route  via  New  York,  nor  perhaps  even 
return  as  far  as  Syracuse,  but  could  strike  directly 
south,  cutting  into  Pennsylvania  somewhere  below 
Binghamton  and,  by  way  of  Scranton,  come  down 


3o8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

to  Doylestown  and  home.  Nancy  held  the  fluttering 
maps  straight  in  her  lap,  while  I  painfully  plotted 
our  route  and  made  some  rough  estimation  of  the 
miles ;  finding,  to  my  surprise,  that  we  had  but  little 
over  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  go,  with  such 
an  early  start,  a  not  impossible  day's  journey  for 
the  car  I  was  driving.  The  road  was  perfect,  and 
save  for  an  occasional  farmer  or  dairyman  we  had 
it  to  ourselves,  so  that  by  breakfast  time  we  were 
in  Cortland. 

And  we  were  all  of  us  very  ready  for  breakfast. 
The  rush  through  the  May  sunshine,  and  perhaps 
some  measure  of  re-found  happiness,  had  acted  on 
Nancy  like  a  tonic.  Mrs.  Lathrop  was  once  again 
her  natural,  vivacious,  bird-like  self.  Even  Eph- 
raim  Bond,  by  what  miracle  of  teasing  and  cajolery 
I  could  never  understand,  looked,  not  himself  again, 
but  a  new  and  altogether  more  pleasing  old  gentle- 
man. At  the  hotel  I  made  some  shift  at  removing 
the  marks  of  my  night  conflict,  and  although  my 
clothes  were  so  torn  that  I  thought  it  best  to  sit 
down  at  table  in  a  driving  dust-coat,  yet,  but  for 
this  incongruity,  I  felt,  and  I  think  looked,  fairly 
presentable.  Nancy,  I  know,  was  a  radiant  crea- 
ture, whose  sparkling  beauty  fairly  dazzled  me. 
She  was  hatless,  of  course,  but  with  Mrs.  Lathrop's 
voluminous  veil  half  shrouding  the  glory  of  her 
hair,  caught  in  some  dexterous  intricacy  at  the 
neck,  and  falling  from  her  shoulders  in  wondrous 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY     309 

folds  that  I  am  sure  it  had  never  known,  she  had 
all  the  dainty  loveliness  of  some  incarnate  Tana- 
gra.  I  proposed  that  she  should  rest  after  break- 
fast, but  she  would  have  none  of  it. 

"  We  have  gone  such  a  little  way,"  she  said,  "  and 
truly,  I  am  not  at  all  tired,  and  I  want,  oh,  I  so 
very  much  want  to  get  home." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  herself  seemed  impatient  to  be  on 
the  way.  What  Ephraim  Bond  felt  did  not  in  the 
least  matter.  When  we  were  once  on  the  road 
again  I  turned  to  Nancy. 

"  Do  you  feel  like  telling  me  about  it?  "  I  asked 
rather  uncertainly.  "  I  want  to  know,  but  of  course 
I  can  wait." 

Nancy  put  her  hand  on  my  arm.  "  I  want  to  tell 
you,"  she  said.  "It  doesn't  trouble  me;  nothing 
can  now,  Mason ;  and  I  know  that  you  must  be  very 
perplexed  about  it  all. 

"  After  you  left  me,  I  went  about  that  dear, 
sweet  old  house  with  the  good  woman  you  had  left 
with  me,  straightening  little  things  and  arranging 
them,  putting  our  purchases  on  the  kitchen  shelves, 
and  making  my  little  bow  to  the  place  that  was  to 
be  home.  I  wonder  if  you  know,  Mason,  how 
sweet  it  all  was,  how  wonderful  and  new  and  old, 
as  if  I  had  been  dropped  suddenly  into  a  place 
much  better  than  heaven,  which  somehow  did  not 
surprise  me  at  all.  I  am  afraid  I  left  most  of  the 
work  to  Mrs.  Blake;  for  I  ran  in  and  out  of  doors 


310     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

and  up  and  down  stairs,  fairly  reveling  in  it  all; 
and  I  tried  not  to  think  you  were  taking  long,  and 
then  not  to  be  afraid  because  the  time  was  so  short, 
and  after  I  had  looked  again  to  see  if  you  were 
coming,  I  went  up  to  my  room,  and  getting  some 
sewing,  played  that  I  was  very  domestic  indeed. 
I  don't  know  how  he  ever  came  in  so  quietly,  Mason. 
I  did  hear  a  little  noise  just  before  he  came  into 
the  room,  so  that  I  laid  aside  my  embroidery  and 
jumped  up. 

"  And  then  it  was  awful.  He  stood  in  the  door 
and  laughed  at  me,  an  insolent,  terrible  laugh, 
Mason,  that  frightened  me  so  I  could  not  move 
until  he  touched  me;  and  then  it  was  too  late,  for 
he  got  both  my  wrists  in  one  of  those  great  hands 
of  his,  and  though  I  fought  as  hard  as  I  was 
able,  he  dragged  me  over  to  the  window  and  tied 
my  hands  together  with  the  curtain  cord.  That 
Mrs.  Olsen  came  into  the  room  then  (I  thought 
she  was  Mrs.  Blake  at  first,  and  called  out  to  her), 
and  each  of  them  took  an  elbow  and  half  carried 
me  out  to  the  buggy  they  had  waiting  in  the  road. 
You  know  the  rest  of  it,  Mason.  We  stayed  at 
Mrs.  Lathrop's  that  night,  and  I  wrote  a  note  to 
you  there.  Next  morning  we  went  on  to  New 
York,  and  spent  that  night  at  a  lodging-house  in 
Syracuse;  and  the  morning  after  that  they  took 
me  to  Winford,  and  locked  me  up  in  that  sanato- 
rium. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY     311 

"  It  was  cruelly  easy  to  do  it  all.  From  Phila- 
delphia to  New  York,  and  from  New  York  to  Syra- 
cuse we  had  a  private  compartment  on  the  train, 
but  once  in  the  Pennsylvania  station  and  once  in 
the  lodging-house  at  Syracuse  I  managed  to  speak 
to  people;  but  it  wasn't  of  the  slightest  use.  The 
one  word  '  insane '  made  people  shrink  away  from 
me.  Any  determined  man  and  woman,  posing  as 
doctor  and  nurse,  could,  I  think,  abduct  almost  any- 
one else.  People  take  the  word  of  the  majority 
so  much  as  a  matter  of  course.  It  is  not  like  being 
a  criminal,  where  they  have  to  prove  you  guilty. 
For  some  reason  people  accept  the  premise  that  you 
are  insane  until  you  have  proved  that  you  are  not, 
and  then  hurry  away  without  giving  you  any  chance 
of  making  such  a  proof. 

"  Neither  of  them  talked  to  me  much  while  we 
were  traveling,  but  as  soon  as  I  was  safely  locked 
up,  he  came  into  my  room  and  had  a  long  talk  with 
me.  He  told  me,  in  the  first  place,  that  I  was  not 
really  married  to  you,  and  then  he  said  that  he 
could  keep  me  there  until  I  consented  to  marry 
him,  even  if  he  had  to  wait  a  year  or  so.  I  told 
him  that  he  had  forgotten  one  thing,  that  a  person 
had  to  be  judged  insane  by  the  court;  but  he  said 
as  no  one  knew  where  I  was,  and  as  Doctor  May- 
hew  agreed  with  him,  he  thought  we  might  dispense 
with  that  formality." 

While  Nancy  talked  I  let  the  car  drop  to  a  more 


312     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

gentle  rate  of  speed,  that  I  might  listen  without 
danger  to  us  all. 

"  Nancy,"  I  said,  "  do  you  know  that  you  have 
never  told  me  who  the  man  is  ?  His  name  was  torn 
off  the  note  you  gave  me  at  Mrs.  Lathrop's,  and 
Doctor  Mayhew  came  in  before  I  could  ask  you, 
there  at  the  window  at  the  sanatorium.  I  know 
what  he  looks  like  and  that  he  calls  himself  Doctor 
Morrison.  Who  is  he,  Nancy  ?  " 

Nancy  looked  over  her  shoulder  where  her  uncle 
and  Mrs.  Lathrop  sat  in  the  tonneau. 

"  He  is  his  son,"  she  said,  in  a  very  soft  voice ; 
"  my  own  cousin,  Erskine  Bond." 

"  Your  cousin?  "  I  repeated  aloud. 

"  Hush,"  said  Nancy,  "  he'll  hear." 

But  I  think  that  Ephraim  Bond  had  already 
caught  the  name  of  his  son,  so'ftly  as  she  had  whis- 
pered it,  and  in  spite  of  the  faint  drumming  of  the 
motor. 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  he  said,  leaning  forward  between 
us;  "  for  my  sins,  my  own  son." 

Our  road  was  winding  through  a  long  strip  of 
woods.  Now  I  slowed  down  the  motor,  and  backed 
the  car  from  the  road  into  a  vague  logging  trail 
that  emerged  between  the  beeches,  running  cau- 
tiously backward  until  the  yellow  highway  was  only 
a  door  of  light  ahead  of  us.  There  I  brought  the 
car  to  a  standstill  and  shut  off  the  power.  I  turned 
to  find  Mr.  Bond  white  and  frightened  at  his  own 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY     313 

admission  and  the  suddenness  of  my  manceuver. 
But  for  Mrs.  Lathrop's  excited  clutch  on  his  sleeve, 
I  think  he  would  have  tried  to  climb  out  of  the  car. 
I  did  not  speak  to  him  for  a  moment,  but  turned 
again  to  Nancy. 

"  He  was  the  man  behind  the  curtain  that  first  day 
then,"  I  said.  "  You  knew  he  was  in  the  house 
then,  Nancy?  " 

She  nodded.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  thought  it 
was  he,  and  it  frightened  me,  for  he  had  no  business 
there  then." 

"  No,  he  had  not,"  Ephraim  Bond  interrupted. 
"  I  had  forbidden  him  the  house,  forbidden  it  for 
all  time.  If  I  had  known  he  was  there,  if  you 
had  had  the  sense  to  tell  me,  Nancy,  I  should  have 
called  the  police;  but  I  never  suspected  it  until  I 
saw  him  running  after  a  bus  just  as  you  drove 
away." 

I  sat  silent,  thinking.  Furtively  Nancy's  hand 
stole  gently  into  mine. 

"  But,  why,"  I  asked,  "  didn't  you  tell  me  about 
him  in  the  first  place  ?  I  should  think  it  would  have 
been  the  first  thing  you  would  have  told  me." 

Nancy  looked  up  at  me  and  actually  laughed. 
"  And  lose  you  the  next  minute  ? "  she  said.  "  I 
knew  you  too  well,  and  not  well  enough."  Her 
face  grew  serious.  "  I  really  meant  to  tell  you, 
Mason.  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  It  was  you  your- 
self who  stopped  me.  Do  you  remember  our  walk 


3i4     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

into  the  village  together,  when  I  tried  to  tell  you 
all  about  my  life,  and  what  it  had  been?  I  would 
have  told  you  then  about  Erskine,  although  I  didn't 
like  even  to  think  of  him,  but  I  was  afraid  to.  I 
told  you  about  Uncle  Ephraim  and  that  was  bad 
enough.  Do  you  know  what  you  said  you  would 
like  to  do  to  him?  " 

"  Kill  him,  I  think,"  I  confessed. 

Ephraim  Bond  moaned  in  the  seat  behind  us,  so 
that  I  suppose  he  was  listening. 

"  Well,"  Nancy  said,  "  it  frightened  me  terribly. 
For  all  I  knew,  you  might  have  turned  around  and 
gone  right  back  to  New  York.  If  I  told  you  about 
my  cousin,  I  was  sure  that  you  would  do  so.  You 
were  all  the  happiness  I  had  in  the  world,  Mason." 
She  smiled  at  me  again.  "  I  loved  you  distractedly 
even  then,  you  see.  My  father  was  dead  and  you 
were  all  I  had.  I  didn't  want  revenge,  I  wanted 
happiness.  I  wanted  to  put  them  all  out  of  my 
life,  and  only  prayed  that  they  would  never  come 
into  it  again.  I  meant  to  tell  you  some  day,  when 
I  could  make  you  understand  all  that.  I  couldn't 
afford  to  risk  it  then,  and  I  couldn't  tell  you  how 
much  I  cared.  Surely,  you  know  that  I  never 
loved  Erskine.  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you  that. 
Moreover  I  do  not  think  that  he  ever  loved  me. 
Uncle  Ephraim  knows  why  he  wanted  to  marry 
me." 

She  was  trying,  I  know,  to  deal  mercifully  with 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY     315 

the  old  man  in  the  tonneau;  but,  in  spite  of  herself, 
a  little  tinge  of  bitterness  crept  into  her  voice. 

"  He  arranged  the  marriage,"  she  went  on ;  "  he 
and  father  between  them,  he  told  me,  although  I 
have  never  believed  that.  I  have  never  known  why 
it  was,  why  everybody  seemed  to  want  it  so  much, 
unless  it  had  something  to  do  with  money;  for  I 
have  never  liked  Erskine,  and  they  all  knew  it. 
When  he  began  to  make  love  to  me  I  detested  him. 
Was  it  money,  Uncle  Ephraim  ?  "  she  asked. 

Ephraim  Bond  sank  back  against  the  leather 
cushions,  white  and  silent. 

"  Answer  her,"  I  said. 

He  moaned  and  winced  as  if  I  had  struck  him. 
Mrs.  Lathrop  hopped  to  her  feet  and  fairly  shook 
him. 

"  Answer  her !  Answer  her !  "  she  cried.  "  Don't 
be  a  fool.  Nobody's  going  to  kill  you." 

She  had  some  strange  power  that  Ephraim  Bond 
seemed  unable  to  resist.  He  raised  one  hand  to 
his  trembling  lips,  and  looking  away  from  us,  began 
to  speak  in  a  colorless  monotone. 

"  It  was  the  wish  of  my  brother,"  he  said;  "  his 
living  wish  and  his  dying  wish,  that  our  two  families 
should  be  held  together  yet  closer.  He  even — " 
Mr.  Bond  paused. 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Lathrop  prompted.  "  He  even  said 
so  in  his  will.  Of  course  it  was  money.  You 
might  as  well  tell  about  it." 


316     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  Against  my  judgment,"  the  old  man  whispered, 
"  quite  against  my  judgment,  he  did  make  such  an 
arrangement  in  his  will.  He  had  a  little  money, 
not  much,  but  a  little.  This  was  to  go  to  Nancy  if 
she  married  my  son." 

I  pressed  Nancy's  hand  and  smiled  at  her  reas- 
suringly. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  possible,"  she  said.  "  They 
told  me  father  wished  it,  but  I  never  believed  them. 
He  could  not  have  been  himself  to  have  written 
such  a  thing." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  written  for  him,"  I  said. 
"  Well,  Mr.  Bond,  and  if  Nancy  did  not  marry  your 
son?" 

"  It  was  all  quite,  quite  against  my  judgment,"  he 
quavered ;  "  you  understand  that ;  but  my  brother 
was  so  set  on  the  matter,  I  could  not  influence 
him.  I  did  not  approve  of  such  a  will,  but  he  was 
very  headstrong,  very  headstrong." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop,  "  that,  if  Nancy 
refused  to  do  this,  the  money  reverted  to  you." 

Ephraim  Bond  looked  up  at  her  quickly,  his  rab- 
bit chin  trembling  and  his  pale  eyes  wide  with 
terror. 

"  It  was  quite  against  my  will,"  he  repeated. 

"  Of  course,"  Mrs.  Lathrop  commented  dryly. 
'  Then  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  you  quarreled  with 
your  son  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  decided  that 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY     317 

you  could  get  this  money  for  yourself,  and  brought 
me  in  to  help  you." 

But  his  fear  seemed  to  have  at  last  quite  over- 
mastered him,  making  him  incapable  of  further 
coherent  thought  or  answer. 

"  It  was  quite  against  my  wish,"  he  whispered 
again,  as  if  no  thought  were  behind  the  words. 

Nancy  was  crying  softly,  and  I  put  my  arm  about 
her. 

"  Dear  heart,"  I  said,  "  can  you  forgive  me  ?  I 
meant  so  to  help  you,  and  it  seems  I  have  only 
done  you  a  wrong." 

She  took  my  face  between  gentle  hands  and  kissed 
me. 

"  Wrong?  "  she  said,  "  wrong?  You've  done  me 
the  greatest  right  in  the  world.  Surely,  Mason,  you 
will  not  hurt  me  by  thinking  I  cared  about  the 
money?  What  difference  can  money  make?  Do 
you  think  I  would  not  work  on  my  knees  all  my 
life  for  you?  It  is  happiness  and  love  that  I  want, 
and  you,  Mason;  for  you  are  both  of  them  to  me. 
Money!  when  all  my  world  is  you?  It  was  think- 
ing about  poor  father  that  made  me  cry;  what  they 
must  have  done  to  him  to  make  him  write  such 
things !  " 

"//  he  wrote  them,"  I  said.  "From  what  I 
know  of  your  uncle  and  cousin,  I  think  that  we  can 
be  pretty  sure  that  he  did  not.  They  may  have 


3i8     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

made  him  sign  something  without  reading  it,  but 
that  is  all  he  could  have  done." 

"  You  forget,  Mason,"  said  Nancy,  "  that  he  was 
not  himself  for  a  good  many  years." 

I  got  out  of  the  automobile  and  lifted  Ephraim 
Bond  bodily  from  his  seat,  carrying  him  out  of 
hearing;  for  a  new  thought  had  come  to  me,  some- 
thing that  was  not  for  Nancy's  ears. 

"  I  know  now,"  I  said,  holding  him  at  arm's 
length,  "  where  your  son  got  his  suggestion." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  he  cried,  struggling. 
"What  suggestion?" 

"  I  mean,"  said  I,  "  that  he  took  an  easy  method 
of  disposing  of  two  perfectly  sane  people;  and  I 
think,  Mr.  Bond,  that  Jie  learned  that  method  at 
home.  I  shall  keep  you  with  me  until  I  learn  if  the 
original  method  ended,  perhaps,  in  murder." 


XXX 

THE  CATASTROPHE 

EPHRAIM  BOND  did  not  answer  me,  and  I 
half  marched,  half  dragged  him  back  to  the 
car,  returning  him  to  the  tonneau  with,  I  fear,  no 
gentle  hand. 

For  a  few  miles  the  car  ran  well ;  then  something 
went  wrong,  and  although  I  stopped  again  and  again 
to  look  for  the  trouble,  I  was  unable  to  locate  it. 
Motors,  like  people,  seem  subject  to  small,  vague 
indispositions  which,  aside  from  a  thorough  over- 
hauling, defy  a  diagnosis.  We  would  run  for  a 
mile  or  so  with  a  perfect  and  gratifying  smooth- 
ness, then  the  motor  would  unaccountably  begin  to 
skip,  change  its  mind  and  run  again  smoothly,  then 
come  to  an  unexpected  and  absolute  standstill,  so 
that  luncheon  time  found  us  only  as  far  as  Bing- 
hamton.  And  although  during  the  afternoon  we 
managed  to  cross  the  state  line  and  get  into  Penn- 
sylvania, yet  as  the  afternoon  advanced  it  became 
more  and  more  plain  that  we  should  be  unable  to 
reach  home  that  night,  and  as  we  limped  into  Scran- 
ton  barely  in  time  for  a  late  supper,  with  over  half 
our  journey  still  before  us,  we  resigned  ourselves 


320     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

wearily  to  fate  and  decided  to  spend  the  night  there. 
I  was  able  to  get  a  good  room  for  Nancy  and  Mrs. 
Lathrop,  and  passable  accommodation  for  Ephraim 
Bond  and  myself.  I  could  have  done  better,  the 
hotel-keeper  informed  me,  if  I  wished  to  take  a  single 
room,  but  I  found  myself  unwilling  to  let  Nancy's 
devious  uncle  out  of  my  sight.  Even  after  we  had 
registered,  and  I  had  left  Nancy  and  Mrs.  Lathrop 
to  get  ready  for  supper,  I  took  Mr.  Bond  with  me 
to  the  garage  recommended  by  the  proprietor,  where 
they  optimistically  hoped  to  have  the  car  in  good 
driving  condition  by  starting  time  the  next  day. 

Of  supper  we  made  but  a  poor  meal.  All  of  us 
were,  I  think,  tired  and  a  little  nervous,  for  the 
vexatious,  halting  journey  recalled  and  emphasized 
the  fatigues  of  the  previous  sleepless  night,  which, 
under  the  first  stimulus  of  pleasant  driving,  we  had 
forgotten. 

"  It  will  be  much  nicer,"  Nancy  said,  as  she  kissed 
me  good  night,  "  to  get  home  in  the  daytime. 
What  did  you  do  with  the  key  of  the  house,  Ma- 
son?" 

"  I  left  it  under  the  door-mat,"  I  said ;  "  I  thought 
perhaps  you  might  come  back  while  I  was  away." 

Nancy  sighed  in  my  arms.  "  I  am  so  glad  I 
didn't,"  she  said;  "this  is  much  nicer  just  as  it  is." 

When  I  had  Ephraim  Bond  alone  in  the  room 
I  tried  wearily  to  question  him,  but  he  had  grown 
sulky  and  suspicious.  He  cursed  his  son  readily 


THE  CATASTROPHE  321 

enough,  and  told  me  that  he  himself  had  been 
brought  to  the  sanatorium  by  Doctor  Mayhew  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  his  son  and  Mrs.  Olsen 
had  taken  Nancy.  But  he  would  answer  no  further 
questions,  and  finally  I  decided  to  let  my  curiosity 
wait  and  see  what  a  night's  sleep  would  do  for  him. 
He  crept  into  bed  muttering  to  himself,  and  in  a 
few  moments  was  apparently  sound  asleep.  I  drew 
a  chair  to  the  table  under  the  single  gas-light,  and 
wrote  a  short  note  to  Mr.  Ogilby.  I  was  too  tired, 
I  knew,  to  go  immediately  to  bed,  and  after  I  had 
sealed  my  letter,  I  leaned  back  in  my  chair,  going 
over  in  my  mind  the  many  happenings  of  the  last 
twenty- four  hours;  and  as  I  reviewed  them  my 
strained  nerves  relaxed.  It  was  all  going  to  come 
out  happily.  What  the  future  held  for  me  I  did 
not  know,  but  now  I  had  Nancy  again,  and  I  knew 
that  it  could  be  nothing  but  good.  I  had  Nancy 
again,  and  to-morrow  I  was  going  to  be  really  mar- 
ried. With  the  thought  I  straightened  in  my  chair; 
for  I  suddenly  remembered  that  now  I  had  no 
marriage  license.  I  had  thoughtlessly  tucked  it  into 
my  note-book,  and  this,  with  everything  else,  had 
been  taken  from  me  as  I  lay  unconscious  in  Central 
Park.  I  could  get  another  in  Doylestown,  I  knew; 
but  I  feared  that  by  some  unknown  official  vagary 
the  office  might  be  closed,  imposing  on  me  an  im- 
possible delay.  Whether  or  not  I  could  get  one  at 
some  point  in  my  journey  I  did  not  know,  but  be- 


322     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

cause  it  was  so  important  to  me,  I  dreaded  lest  it 
should  be  refused  to  such  a  casual  party  of  tourists 
as  we  seemed.  Then  I  remembered  Mr.  Stevens, 
and  turned  out  my  pockets  on  the  table. 

I  had  a  few  papers  of  my  own,  and  with  the  ones 
which  I  had  taken  from  Stevens  the  night  before, 
they  made  quite  a  heap  upon  the  table.  I  sorted 
through  them  rapidly,  and,  to  my  joy,  found  not 
only  my  note-book,  but  the  license  I  had  taken  out 
at  Doylestown  still  tucked  safely  inside  it.  I 
smoothed  it  out  before  me  on  the  table,  a  common- 
place sheet  of  paper  enough,  but  to  me  a  mysterious 
and  precious  passport  into  paradise,  its  sober  legal 
phrasing  joining  Nancy's  name  with  mine  in  a  won- 
derful and  magical  unity. 

Mr.  Stevens'  letters,  when  I  came  to  read  them 
(and  I  opened  them  without  mental  apology),  were 
an  amazing  collection  of  miscellaneous  rascality. 
They  were  signed,  for  the  most  part,  by  names  I 
did  not  know,  and  spoke  of  events  in  which  I  had 
no  present  interest,  but  among  them  I  came  upon 
one,  stamped  and  sealed  and  addressed,  not  to 
Stevens,  but  to  Erskine  Bond,  in  care  of  Doctor 
May  hew.  The  writing  itself  was  non-committal, 
the  facile,  flourishing,  unlovely  copper-plate,  which 
betrays  nothing  of  the  writer's  character,  except, 
perhaps,  that  he  is  able  to  adopt  at  will  any  hand- 
writing he  wishes,  whether  it  be  some  disguise  of 
his  own  or  the  characteristic  script  of  another  man. 


THE  CATASTROPHE  323 

I  tore  open  the  envelope  with  a  quickening  interest. 
The  letter  was  of  some  length,  and  signed  simply 
"  Stevens."  I  could  imagine  as  I  read  it  how  he 
gnawed  his  penholder  and  his  already  picked  and 
bitten  finger-tips;  for  what  he  wrote  bared  almost 
indecently  the  mongrel  soul  of  the  man.  He  blus- 
tered and  threatened,  cringed,  whined  and  begged, 
angry  with  one  sentence,  groveling  with  the  very 
next ;  in  one  breath  he  seemed  to  pray  for  assistance 
and  snarl  a  hint  of  blackmail. 

He  spoke  of  some  former  letter  he  had  written, 
and  which  had  remained  unanswered,  and  ran  over, 
as  if  he  were  repeating  it,  the  list  of  his  offenses 
against  me  in  the  service  of  his  employer :  his  ingra- 
tiating himself  with  Ephraim  Bond,  his  officiating  at 
our  "  wedding,"  his  finding  of  me  in  New  York,  and 
the  attack  he  and  his  pals  had  made  upon  me  in 
the  park;  and  he  added  that,  since  his  last  letter, 
he  had  seen  me  in  the  subway,  but  owing  to  an 
accident  had  been  unable  to  follow  me,  adding, 
further,  that  as  I  was  carrying  traveling-bags,  there 
was  a  possibility  that  I  might  be  on  my  way  to 
Win  ford.  But  the  burden,  soul  and  text  of  the 
letter  was  that  he  had  not  been  paid.  He  had  not 
been  paid,  he  had  performed  many  and  dangerous 
services  (dangerous,  should  they  be  discovered,  to 
both  employer  and  employed),  he  had  performed 
his  half  of  the  bargain  faithfully,  and  now  if 
Erskine  Bond  thought  he  could  cheat  him  out  of 


324     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

his  rights,  let  him  beware.  He  would  have  his 
money  if  they  both  had  to  go  to  jail  for  it,  and 
jail  it  would  be  if  the  facts  were  known.  But  he 
proclaimed  an  infinite  preference  for  jail  for  them 
both,  to  liberty  in  his  present  state  of  being 
"  trimmed." 

Why  the  letter  was  not  mailed  I  do  not  know. 
Perhaps  his  vacillating  courage  was  not  up  to  it,  or 
he  may  have  written  and  sent  another  which  pleased 
him  more;  but,  at  least,  I  now  knew  why  he  had 
come  to  my  hiding-place  opposite  the  sanatorium. 
This  time  he  hunted,  not  me,  but  his  employer.  It 
was  like  him  that  he  should  spy  upon  him  first. 

With  infinite  satisfaction  I  put  the  letter  back 
into  its  envelope,  and  sweeping  the  whole  heap  into 
my  traveling-bag,  made  ready  for  bed. 

It  seemed  that  I  had  only  slept  a  little  while, 
when  there  came  a  thunderous  knock  on  the  door. 
I  opened  my  eyes  to  find  that  it  was  already  morn- 
ing, and  that  this  was  the  call  for  which  I  had 
arranged  at  the  office.  I  felt  sore  and  stiff  as  I 
got  up,  but  with  my  bath  this  feeling  disappeared, 
and  I  set  about  my  dressing  gaily.  I  had  been  up 
some  time  before  I  remembered  my  room-mate.  A 
glance  at  his  bed  told  me  that  it  was  empty.  With 
childish  craft  he  had  arranged  the  pillows  under  the 
bedclothes,  which,  I  suppose,  had  at  first  subcon- 
sciously contented  me.  Now  I  hurried  through  my 
dressing  and  went  down  to  the  office. 


THE  CATASTROPHE  325 

"Has  the  other  gentleman  come  down  yet?"  I 
asked. 

!<  Why,  yes,"  I  was  assured ;  "  he  came  down 
about  daylight,  I  think.  He  said  he  had  to  take 
the  early  train  for  New  York  and  that  you  knew  all 
about  it." 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  hiding  my  annoyance  as  well 
as  I  was  able,  for,  after  all,  he  was  clean  gone  and 
there  was  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk.  If  I 
needed  him  again  he  would  not  be  very  hard  to 
find;  for,  if  I  needed  him,  it  would  mean  that  he 
had  committed  a  crime,  and  the  matter  would  be 
taken  out  of  my  hands. 

"  Your  uncle  thought  it  best  to  go  back  to  New 
York,"  I  said  to  Nancy  at  breakfast.  "  He  left,  in 
fact,  before  I  was  awake." 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  Nancy  said  simply. 

"  You  mean,"  Mrs.  Lathrop  asked,  "  that  he  ran 
away?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  he  did,"  I  answered ;  "  so  that  now 
you  will  have  the  tonneau  all  to  yourself." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  sniffed.  "  I  must  say,"  she  said, 
"  that  for  a  rascal  he  was  a  terribly  uninteresting 
man." 

The  garage-keeper  may  have  been  worthy  and  up- 
right and  a  good  citizen,  but  as  a  mechanic  he  was  a 
hopeless  failure.  He  returned  me  the  car  and  a 
very  sizable  bill,  fairly  glowing  with  what  he  may 
have  supposed  was  justifiable  pride. 


326     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

"  I  found  the  trouble,"  he  said,  "  and  fixed  your 
pump,  too.  That  didn't  seem  to  be  coupled  on  just 
right.  I  worked  on  the  thing  myself  to  almost  mid- 
night." 

And,  indeed,  for  the  first  two  or  three  miles  I 
blessed  him;  for  the  car  ran  with  all  its  first  serene 
rapidity.  Then  there  came  a  new  sound,  which  I 
recognized  with  a  sinking  heart  from  the  pounding 
of  the  engine,  and  which  slowly  increased,  until 
some  time  later  we  were  forced  to  stop.  A  glance 
under  the  hood  told  me  what  was  the  trouble.  The 
over-officious  mechanic  in  tampering  with  the  pump 
had  rendered  it  practically  useless,  so  that  the  en- 
gine had  grown  very  hot,  and  the  water  was  boiling 
in  the  radiator.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to 
wait  until  it  cooled  and  we  were  able  to  run  on 
again  —  to  run  on  until  the  new  laboring  of  the 
engines  warned  me  that  it  was  again  time  to  stop. 
In  this  halting  way  we  made  our  journey.  But  the 
night's  sleep  had  refreshed  us  all,  so  that  we  took 
our  misfortunes  cheerfully  enough. 

"  It  does  seem  pleasant,".  Mrs.  Lathrop  said,  "  to 
be  riding  round  like  this  as  if  there  wasn't  a  lick 
of  work  to  do  in  the  whole  world.  Just  the  same, 
I  suppose  you'd  better  manage  to  go  through  Buck- 
ingham and  drop  me  on  the  way." 

Nancy  leaned  over  and  whispered  to  me. 

"  Mrs.  Lathrop,"  I  said,  "  you  are  going  to  have 
a  great  honor.  You're  to  be  the  only  guest  at  our 


THE  CATASTROPHE  327, 

wedding.  Nancy  thinks  that  Doylestown  is  the 
best  place  to  be  married  in,  so  if  you  will  come 
that  far  and  be  matron  of  honor  or  something  like 
that,  you  can  start  with  us  on  our  honeymoon ;  and 
we'll  drive  out  to  Buckingham  after  the  wedding 
and  leave  you  there  before  we  go  home.  Even 
with  the  car  acting  this  way  we  should  be  in  Doyles- 
town by  one  o'clock." 

Mrs.  Lathrop  flushed  quite  unexpectedly. 

"  I  should  love  to  do  it,"  she  said,  "  but  I'm  not 
hardly  what  you'd  call  dressed  for  a  wedding." 

Nancy  looked  down  at  her  own  striped  gingham 
dress. 

"  Do  you  think  this  is  a  pretty  wedding-dress  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Lathrop  emphatically, 
"  and  that  settles  it.  We  stop  at  Buckingham 
whether  that  young  man  wants  us  to  or  not.  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference  how  much  of  a  hurry 
he  is  in.  I'm  not  going  to  see  you  married  in  that 
convict  dress.  Why,"  she  went  on,  with  rising  in- 
dignation, "  that  Mrs.  Olsen  wore  one  cut  off  the 
same  piece  of  goods.  You're  a  mite  taller  than  I 
am,  but  I  guess  I  can  fix  you." 

And  so  it  was  arranged.  To  reach  Buckingham 
needed  but  a  slight  detour,  and  we  drew  up  before 
Mrs.  Lathrop's  handkerchief  of  a  lawn  a  few  min- 
utes before  noon.  I  waited  in  the  car  while  Nancy 
and  Mrs.  Lathrop,  their  arms  about  each  other's 


328     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

waists  like  two  girls,  disappeared  into  the  house. 
After  a  not  insupportable  time  they  came  out  to  the 
car  again,  Nancy  swathed  in  a  long  rain-coat,  with 
the  hood  drawn  up  over  her  head,  little  satin  slippers 
peeping  beneath  the  hem,  and  Mrs.  Lathrop  bon- 
neted and  shawled  and  in  the  conscious  dignity  of 
a  silk  dress. 

The  car  had  cooled  during  the  wait,  and  we  ran 
to  Doylestown  without  a  stop,  finding  the  rector 
at  his  very  gate.  He  called  his  wife  as  our  other 
witness,  and  unlocked  the  door  of  the  dim,  lovely 
little  church  for  us. 

In  the  light  of  the  vestibule  Mrs.  Lathrop 
stopped  Nancy,  and  unhooking  the  rain-coat,  care- 
fully turned  back  the  hood  and  took  it  from  her 
shoulders,  with  all  the  loving  solicitude  and  triumph- 
ant pleasure  of  a  true  fairy  godmother.  And  it  was 
indeed  as  if  she  waved  a  wand;  for  Nancy  stepped 
from  the  dark  garment  like  a  new-blown  flower, 
her  bride-veil  a  floating,  almost  impalpable  thing 
behind  her,  which  scarcely  dimmed  the  luster  of  her 
hair,  and  fell  in  nebulous  softness  to  the  sweeping, 
embroidered  satin  train.  There  were  tears  in  Mrs. 
Lathrop's  eyes  as  she  kissed  her. 

"  My  own  dress,  dearie,"  she  said,  "  and  I  never 
thought  to  see  any  one  so  lovely  in  it." 

There  were  tears  in  Nancy's  eyes,  I  think,  too, 
happy  tears  as  she  stood  shyly  proud  before  me; 
and  half  afraid,  I  stretched  out  my  hand  to  her, 


THE  CATASTROPHE  329 

and  together  we  walked  up  the  aisle  to  where,  at 
the  altar,  the  rector  already  awaited  us. 

I  made  my  responses  as  well  as  I  was  able  be- 
fore the  soft  and  glowing  wonder  of  her,  and  like 
a  swift  dream  it  was  over  and  I  found  myself  once 
more  out  again  in  the  bright  sunshine  with  Nancy 
surely  my  wife.  It  was  in  a  sort  of  golden  daze 
that  I  drove  the  car  back  to  Buckingham,  where 
Mrs.  Lathrop  waved  us  an  au  revoir  from  her  front 
gate.  I  was  an  irresponsible  driver,  I  am  sure,  for 
I  must  look  constantly  from  the  road  to  Nancy 
sitting  beside  me,  to  assure  myself  ever  and  again 
that  this  was  not  some  dream. 

It  was  this  mental  detachment,  I  suppose,  that 
made  me  utterly  forget  our  troubles  with  the  car, 
so  that  before  I  had  noticed  the  laboring  of  the 
motor  it  came  dully  to  a  stop  near  the  railroad 
station  in  Doylestown. 

When  I  got  out  the  water  was  boiling  furiously 
in  the  radiator,  sending  a  jet  of  steam  from  the 
vent  in  the  cap. 

I  stooped  and  bent  my  back  to  the  crank,  heaving 
senselessly  against  the  overheated  engine.  Nancy 
gave  a  sharp  little  scream,  and  still  stooping,  I 
glanced  over  my  shoulder. 

Erskine  Bond  was  standing  on  the  sidewalk  be- 
hind me  and  as  I  saw  him  he  shot. 

There  came  a  sting  of  pain  in  my  shoulder,  and 
I  remember  thinking  with  satisfaction  that  the  bul- 


330     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

let  had  touched  no  bone,  but  in  that  photographic 
flash  I  saw  that  it  had  gone  through  me,  cutting 
obliquely  through  the  soft  metal  of  the  radiator. 
Then  a  blinding  puff  of  steam  rose  before  my  eyes; 
and  over  my  hands,  which  still  clutched  the  crank, 
poured  a  small  cascade  of  boiling  water. 


XXXI 

HOME 

I  OPENED  my  eyes  and  lay  staring  up  weakly 
at  the  white  calcimined  ceiling,  where  just 
above  me  the  run  of  an  irregular  crack  drew  the 
grotesque  profile  of  an  old  man,  a  profile  that  seemed 
to  my  thinking  a  caricature  of  Ephraim  Bond.  The 
blinds  were  drawn  and  the  room  was  in  semi-twi- 
light; but  a  broken  shutter  slat  let  in  a  single  bar 
of  the  bright  sunshine  without,  throwing  a  narrow 
wedge  of  light  across  the  room,  and  making  a  bril- 
liant patch  on  the  old-fashioned,  flowered  paper  of 
the  wall.  In  a  room  near  by  some  one  was  singing, 
singing  softly  a  merry,  contented  little  song,  so 
softly  that  I  could  not  hear  the  words,  but  only  the 
happiness  and  lilting  cadence  of  it.  I  closed  my 
eyes  again  to  listen.  I  thought  it  very  sweet  and 
wondered  languidly  who  was  the  singer. 

As  I  wondered  my  mind  harked  back,  with  mem- 
ory struggling  for  some  solid  event  to  lay  hold 
upon,  but  for  a  long  time  all  mental  effort  was 
blocked  by  a  solid  wall  of  nightmare.  I  had 
dreamed  and  dreamed  badly,  that  I  knew.  Titanic, 
murderous  struggles  swayed  and  leaped  before  me, 

331 


332     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

furious  and  futile  combats,  shadowy,  unending,  use- 
less give  and  take  of  blows,  chasms  of  darkness  or 
panels  of  brilliant  light,  striped  and  tortured  with 
bars,  reached  infinitely  before  my  mental  vision, 
and  through  it  all  like  a  wicked  undercurrent  ran 
the  rhythmic  jogging  and  the  regular  iron-shod 
hoof-beats  of  a  horse,  the  jolt  and  jar  of  a  broken- 
springed  carriage  with  the  poignant  throb  of  ex- 
quisite pain.  But  with  the  memory  of  that  pain 
came  the  faint,  indescribable  scent  of  lavender,  and 
fainter  still,  the  sweet  fragrance  of  orange  blossoms, 
the  touch  of  a  soft  arm  about  me,  and  beneath  my 
cheek  a  warm  resting  place  of  satin.  I  drew  a  long 
breath  and  opened  my  eyes;  for  memory  had  re- 
turned to  me. 

"  Nancy ! "  I  cried  out,  and  tried  weakly  to  sit 
up  in  bed. 

The  shout  which  I  had  intended  sounded  weak 
and  faint,  but  she  heard  it ;  for  the  singing  abruptly 
stopped,  and  I  turned  my  head  slowly  to  find  her 
by  the  bedside.  She  put  her  hand  to  my  face  and 
gently  stooped  and  kissed  me,  and  as  she  did  so,  a 
tear  fell  on  my  cheek. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  whispered  anxiously ;  "  what  is 
it?" 

"  Nothing,  dear,"  she  said,  "  only  gladness,  glad- 
ness to  find  you  so." 

"I  am  all  right,"  I  answered.  "I  remember 
everything  perfectly  now,  Nancy.  At  least,  I 


HOME 


333 


think — "  and  broke  off,  obsessed  by  a  sudden 
fear. 

"  What  is  it?  "  said  Nancy  gently. 

"  We  were  married  yesterday,  weren't  we  ?  "  I 
asked.  "  We  really  were  married,  and  everything 
is  all  right?  I  know  we  were.  I  remember  all 
about  it." 

Nancy  kissed  me  again. 

"  Certainly  we  were,"  she  said;  "  beautifully  mar- 
ried, but  I  do  not  think  you  should  talk  any  more." 

"  Certainly  I  can  talk,"  I  said.  "  I  remember  it 
all  now.  He  shot  me,  didn't  he?  That's  why  I 
feel  a  little  weak  this  morning,  but  I'm  feeling  quite 
strong  again  now,  and  I  want  to  talk."  And,  in- 
deed, with  Nancy  close  beside  me,  my  fallen  strength 
seemed  to  come  surging  back  over  me  again  like  a 
wave. 

"  I  don't  think  you  should,"  Nancy  said  doubt- 
fully. "  I  think  you  ought  to  try  to  go  to  sleep." 

"Sleep?"  I  repeated;  "why,  I've  slept  all  night 
and  had  bad  dreams.  I  certainly  do  not  want  to 
sleep  any  more.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  about  it. 
Did  he  go  away?" 

She  bowed,  I  suppose,  to  the  inevitable. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  she  said  quietly ;  "  he  got  away. 
He  thought  he'd  killed  you,  I  think,  and  was  fright- 
ened at  what  he  had  done;  for  he  turned  and  ran 
before  anybody  else  came  up." 

"  Well,  how  did  I  get  here?  "  I  asked. 


334 

"  People  came,"  Nancy  said,  "  and  I  sent  some  one 
for  a  carriage." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  I  replied;  "  an  awful,  jolting 
carriage,  and  you  held  me,  Nancy;  held  me  all  the 
way  home.  Are  you  not  tired  to-day?  " 

Nancy  smiled.  "  It  was  not  yesterday,  Mason," 
she  said.  "  You've  been  very  sick  and  have  had  a 
fever." 

"  Oh,"  I  replied  blankly.  Then  at  last,  "  How 
long  ago  was  it?  Don't  be  afraid  to  tell  me.  I 
want  to  know." 

"  It  was  nine  days  ago,  Mason." 

I  lay  and  pondered  upon  this  for  a  while.  Once 
I  tried  to  raise  my  hand  to  take  Nancy's,  but  I  could 
not  do  it,  and  she  stopped  me  with  a  gesture. 

"  No,"  said  Nancy,  "  you  are  to  keep  very  quiet. 
The  doctor  was  insistent  on  that." 

"  What  does  he  know  about  it  ?  "  I  asked  fret- 
fully. "  Little  country  doctors  are  always  fussy." 

"  But  he  isn't  a  little  country  doctor,"  said  Nancy. 
"  He's  one  of  the  greatest  surgeons  in  America. 
That  attack  on  you  got  into  the  papers,  Mason,  and 
the  next  morning  some  friend  of  yours,  signing  him- 
self 'Ogilby,'  telegraphed  from  New  York  that  he 
was  sending  a  surgeon  down,  and  in  the  afternoon 
the  surgeon  came.  I  do  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing so,  only  I  promised  not  to  until  he  has  seen 
you  again." 

"  All  I  want  you  to  tell  me  is  that  you  love  me. 


HOME  335 

You  must  keep  telling  me  that,  Nancy,  if  you  ex- 
pect me  to  get  well  quickly." 

Nancy  laughed  happily,  and  told  me  in  a  very  ef- 
fective way. 

"  It  seems  hardly  right,"  I  said,  "  to  be  so  abso- 
lutely happy.  Oh,  I  know  it  is  right,  the  rightest 
thing  in  life,  but  I  can't  help  being  sorry  for  the 
rest  of  the  world.  I  wonder,"  I  asked,  stirred  by 
a  sudden  uneasy  thought,  "  what  has  happened  to 
all  those  poor  people  we  left  behind  us  in  the  san- 
atorium." 

"  You  got  a  letter  about  them,"  said  Nancy.  "  I 
saw  the  postmark,  and  opened  it,  because  I  thought 
you  would  want  me  to.  It  was  from  Doctor  May- 
hew,  and  he  says  he  has  kept  his  promise  to  you  and 
broken  up  the  place.  It  was  written  on  steamer 
paper,  and  came  back  by  the  pilot  boat.  Mrs.  La- 
throp  has  come  over  here  four  or  five  times  to 
inquire  about  you,  and  I  read  it  to  her."  Nancy 
laughed.  "  She  hopes  that  he  has  eloped  with  Mrs. 
Olsen.  She  said  it  would  serve  them  both  right. 
And  now,  Mason,  you  mustn't  talk  any  more,  and 
I  must  wet  your  bandages." 

I  lay  quietly  while  she  flitted  in  and  out  of  the 
room,  a  lovely  little  vision,  seriously  bent  on  her 
ministrations.  She  did  not  touch  the  bandage  at 
my  shoulder,  but  moistened  those  about  my  hands 
with  something  delightfully  cool  and  refreshing. 

Just  as  she  was  finishing  her  work  I  heard  the 


336     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

drumming  of  an  approaching  motor-car,  and  lay 
contentedly  listening  to  it,  thinking  of  that  last 
strange  ride  we  had  taken  together.  It  did  not  even 
stir  my  surprise  that  the  car  apparently  came  to  a 
stop  before  our  gate ;  but  Nancy  left  the  room,  and 
I  heard  her  going  to  the  front  door.  Presently 
there  came  a  subdued  sound  of  men's  voices  in  the 
hall  below.  Then  steps  sounded  on  the  stairs,  and 
a  big,  fresh-faced,  young  fellow  came  into  the  room, 
followed  by  a  figure  in  dust-coat  and  motor  goggles, 
with  his  cap  still  pulled  down  firmly  on  his  head. 
Last  of  all  came  Nancy. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Ogilby ! "  I  said,  forgetting  in  my 
surprise  his  wish  to  remain  unknown. 

"  I  felt  the  need  of  an  outing,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby, 
"  and  I  wanted  to  see  with  my  own  eyes  how  you 
were  getting  on,  so  I  brought  the  doctor  down  in 
my  car.  I  found  motoring  so  pleasant  when  I  made 
the  trip  to  Winford  that  as  soon  as  I  got  back  to 
the  city  I  bought  a  car  of  my  own." 

Nancy  changed  color  a  little,  and  stood  with  her 
hands  clasped  at  her  breast,  a  gesture  which  I  al- 
ready knew  meant  that  she  was  troubled  or  puzzled. 
But  the  doctor  had  come  to  my  bedside,  and  already 
was  taking  the  wet  bandages  from  my  hands. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  so  well  this  morning,"  he  said, 
briefly.  "  This  is  fine,  this  is  fine.  Mrs.  Ellsworth, 
I  would  like  to  give  you  some  further  directions 
about  the  case."  He  rapidly  replaced  the  bandages; 


HOME  '337 

and  with  a  smile  over  her  shoulder  at  me,  Nancy  left 
the  room  with  him. 

Mr.  Ogilby  drew  up  a  chair  beside  the  bed,  and 
divesting  himself  of  duster,  cap  and  glasses,  sat 
down  beside  me. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you  did  have  a  beautiful  time, 
and  wounded,  scalded  and  all,  I  envy  you.  You 
must  tell  me  all  about  it  some  day ;  for  I  am  closely 
interested,  and,  as  I  told  you  before,  adventures  at 
my  time  of  life  must  of  necessity  be  for  the  most 
part  vicarious.  It  may  interest  you  to  know, 
though,  that  I  have  given  up  my  tenement  room; 
even  there  I  found  my  seclusion  almost  too  monastic. 
It  is  right  after  all  that  a  man  should  take  his  place 
in  the  world  and  now,  thanks  to  you,  I  am  able  to 
take  it." 

"  To  me  ?  "  I  asked,  in  some  surprise,  with  the 
recurrent  doubt  if  he  were,  after  all,  perfectly  right 
in  his  mind. 

"Yes,  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby.  "Well,  my 
dear,  I  am  glad  that  everything  is  going  so  well 
with  you." 

This  last  to  Nancy ;  for  she  had  come  back  alone 
into  the  room,  and  now  stood  gazing  wide-eyed  at 
the  little  man  who  had  risen  to  greet  her. 

"  You  —  you  — "  she  faltered,  "  you  are  — " 

"  Quite  so,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby.  "  Aren't 
you  going  to  kiss  me?  " 

To  my  utter  surprise  Nancy  gave  a  little  inar- 


•338     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

ticulate  cry,  and  flew  into  the  arms  outstretched  to 
•welcome  her;  where  he  held  her  fast,  kissing  her 
heartily  and  giving  her  little,  affectionate  pats  as 
she  sobbed  happily  upon  his  shoulder.  Presently 
Nancy  raised  her  head. 

"  Does  Mason  know  ?  "  she  asked  doubtfully,  as 
if  she  herself  was  hardly  sure.  Then  quietly,  "  Oh, 
we  must  be  careful  of  him,  for  he  isn't  strong  yet." 

"No;  Mason  doesn't  know,"  Mr.  Ogilby 
chuckled,  turning  to  me,  but  still  keeping  tight  hold 
of  Nancy's  hand,  "  but  I  don't  think  it  will  hurt 
him  to  know.  Your  memory  is  not  so  good  as  mine, 
young  man.  Do  you,  by  any  chance,  remember  a 
fine,  middle-aged  gentleman  who  sat  next  you  on 
a  bench  in  Washington  Square,  a  gentleman  who, 
I  am  ashamed  to  say,  may  have  been  dozing  a 
little?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said ;  "  I  knew  I  had  seen  you  some- 
where before;  and  you  gave  me  a  paper,  the  paper 
by  which  I  first  found  Nancy." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  Mr.  Ogilby  dryly ;  "  but  I  did 
not  know  about  that  '  Personal '  notice  then,  even 
though  that  Lexington  Avenue  stable  was  my  own. 
I  had  been  reading  another  piece  of  news  which  was 
really  very  interesting.  It  was  my  own  obituary. 
You  may  possibly  have  noticed  it,  '  Jared  Bond, 
dead  after  five  years  of  mild  insanity.'  The  notice 
omitted  to  state  that  I  had  a  daughter  Nancy." 

"  A  daughter !  "  I  gasped. 


HOME  339 

"  Yes,  my  son,"  the  old  gentleman  said  compla- 
cently. "  I  think  you  will  find  me  a  very  compan- 
ionable father-in-law." 

"  But  how  — "  Nancy  and  I  commenced  in  a 
breath. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bond,  sitting  down  again  and 
drawing  Nancy  to  his  lap,  "  I  have  been  bursting 
with  it  so  long  that  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  it, 
doctor  or  no  doctor.  I  am  going  on  the  natural 
assumption  that  you  are  pleased;  and  joy,  they  say, 
never  hurt  anybody."  He  chuckled  again.  "  The 
mistake  I  made  was  in  ever  letting  Ephraim  into 
the  house.  Ephraim  has  always  been  rather  un- 
principled, but  he  was  my  own  brother,  and  he  was 
poor,  while  I  had  plenty  of  money ;  so  that  I  thought 
it  only  right  to  do  something  for  him.  I  am  afraid, 
in  those  days,  that  I  was  a  little  weak-natured ;  for 
gradually  Ephraim  began  to  have  too  much  say  in 
the  conduct  of  my  affairs,  and  then  came  a  bad  at- 
tack of  grippe.  When  that  was  over  I  found  myself 
a  prisoner  in  my  own  room.  My  brother  pre- 
tended, even  before  me,  to  think  me  mentally  un- 
balanced; and  there  I  stayed  for  five  years,  signing 
checks,  and  eating  my  heart  out.  I  don't  want  to 
talk  about  that  part  of  it;  it  makes  me  shudder  to 
think  of  it.  If  I  made  any  protest  Ephraim  kept 
me  quiet  with  threats  of  what  he  would  do  to 
Nancy. 

"  I  might  have  been  there  yet,  for  all  I  know, 


340     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  rascally  son  of  his.  Un- 
der one  of  Ephraim's  threats  I  signed  a  paper  which 
I  have  since  thought  was  my  will,  and,  for  a  time, 
I  lived  in  mortal  terror  lest  my  brother  should  make 
away  with  me  altogether.  Then,  by  great  good 
fortune,  he  was  called  away  for  a  day  or  so,  and 
his  son,  who  was  always  hard  up,  came  in  to  see 
me. 

"  Erskine  needed  a  good  deal  of  money,  and  he 
needed  it  right  away;  so  that  I  was  able  to  make 
terms  with  him.  He  had  come  prepared,  with  a 
fountain-pen  and  a  check-book,  but  this  was  my 
opportunity,  and  for  once  I  stood  fast,  deaf  to  any 
threat  that  he  might  make.  I  agreed  to  let  him 
have  twice  the  amount  he  wanted  on  one  condition, 
and  one  condition  only.  My  condition,  naturally, 
was  my  freedom.  He  was  afraid  to  do  it  at  first, 
sorely  as  he  needed  the  money,  but  desperation  and 
his  natural  criminal  bent  finally  suggested  a  way 
that  was  satisfactory  and  fairly  safe  for  both  of  us. 

"  He  had  at  one  time  half  completed  a  course  in 
some  medical  college  and  still  retained  one  or  two 
friends  among  the  more  unscrupulous  members  of 
his  class.  Through  one  of  them  he  obtained  a  body, 
and  with  it  a  certificate  that  I  had  died  of  an  infec- 
tious disease;  so  that  I  was  out  of  the  house,  and  my 
funeral  over,  before  his  father's  return.  It  was  a 
beautiful  plan ;  for  it  left  me  free  to  go  where  I  liked 
as  long  as  I  kept  the  secret  of  my  identity,  and  I 


HOME  341 

think  that  until  my  brother  went  to  the  bank  the 
other  day  with  his  papers  as  executor,  and  found  that 
I,  in  the  flesh,  had  withdrawn  all  my  funds,  he  never 
suspected  anything.  I  hadn't  been  dead  much  more 
than  a  week  when  I  met  you  in  that  cafe,  Mason, 
and  took  you  up  to  my  rooms,  where  you  gave  me 
news  of  Nancy.  You  almost  killed  me  with  it,  but 
I  think  I  managed  to  hide  it.  As  it  all  turned  out, 
my  dear,"  he  said  to  Nancy,  "  I  could  not  be  better 
pleased,  but  I  shall  never  get  over  being  ashamed 
of  myself.  I  ought  of  course  to  have  got  you 
right  away  from  my  brother,  but  I  could  think  of 
no  harm  that  could  come  to  you,  and  I  put  it  off 
a  little.  It  was  a  dreadful  and  cowardly  thing  to 
do. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  can  understand  it, 
child,  but  I  hope  you  can.  It  is  many  years  since 
I  have  been  a  man  of  action,  and  I  am  afraid  my 
moral  courage  suffered  sadly.  Long  years  of  ab- 
solute confinement  made  me  timid  as  well  as  weak. 
I  was  free,  free  at  last  in  the  great,  wide  world, 
and  I  dared  not  face  Ephraim.  I  planned  in  a  little 
while  to  take  legal  steps,  which  should  secure  free- 
dom for  us  both,  but  at  the  very  first  I  didn't 
dare.  I  had  been  told  I  was  insane  for  so  long, 
that  I  had  come,  myself,  to  mistrust  my  mental  bal- 
ance. What,  I  thought,  if  it  were  really  true,  and 
they  were  able  to  lock  me  up  again?  It  takes  some 
little  time  for  a  man  to  get  back  his  courage.  I 


342     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

spent  my  first  week  of  freedom  buying  everything 
I  saw  in  the  shops.  It  was  childish  of  me,  but  I 
had  so  often  thought  of  doing  it.  Everything  you 
saw  in  that  room,  Mason,  was  brand  new.  I  had 
a  revel  of  buying." 

He  gave  Nancy  a  great  hug  and  chuckled. 

"  But  the  beautiful  part  of  it  was  the  suggestion 
of  the  whole  affair.  Erskine  had  seen  how  easy 
it  was  to  shut  some  one  up  and  say  that  he  was 
insane.  I  am  sorry  it  suggested  his  way  of  kid- 
napping you,  daughter  dear;  but  you  have  found  a 
greater  love  and  happiness  through  it  and  it  has 
all  come  out  all  right.  You  and  Mason  will  be  the 
closer  for  it  all  your  lives.  But  the  joke  of  it  all, 
the  beautiful  joke  of  it  all,  is  that  he  tried  it  suc- 
cessfully on  his  own  father;  that  he  gave  him  a 
taste  of  what  I  suffered  so  many  years.  I  could 
almost  forgive  him  his  other  misdeeds  for  that." 

"But  where  are  they  now,  father  and  son?"  I 
asked. 

"  Well,"  said  Jared  Bond,  "  I  had  proof  of  their 
rascality,  evidence  enough  to  send  them  both  to 
jail,  some  of  which  you  gave  me,  Mason,  so  that,  as 
soon  as  I  got  back  to  New  York,  I  put  detectives  on 
them.  In  spite  of  their  quarrel  their  mutual 
apprehension  drew  them  together.  My  brother 
Ephraim,  although  he  waited  for  my  death  for  the 
bulk  of  my  money,  has,  nevertheless,  in  the  last  five 
years  amassed  quite  a  tidy  fortune;  and  three  days 


HOME  343 

ago  he  and  his  precious  son  set  sail  for  parts  un- 
known where,  I  think,  they  will  have  the  sense  to 
remain." 

"  I  wonder  if  they  took  the  boat  with  Doctor 
Mayhew,"  I  said. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Nancy's  father ;  "  my  brother 
would  be  so  pleased  to  make  the  unprofessional  ac- 
quaintance of  his  jailer." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  doctor,  appearing  in  the  door- 
way, "  that  Mr.  Ellsworth  has  talked  quite  enough, 
and  that  you  and  I,  Mr.  Bond,  had  better  be  on 
our  way  back  to  the  city;  particularly  as  Mrs.  Ells- 
worth has  some  news  for  her  husband,  which  I  think 
it  only  fair  she  should  have  the  pleasure  of  telling 
him  in  private." 

"  And  it's  really  so  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bond,  getting  to 
his  feet. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  think  we  may  safely 
say  it  is  so." 

Mr.  Bond  turned  at  the  doorway.  "  I'm  selling 
the  old  house,"  he  said,  "  and  getting  another  much 
more  cheerful,  and  with  a  pipe  organ  in  it  and  the 
best  private  aviary  in  America.  Nobody's  asked 
me  for  my  blessing  yet,  but  you  have  it,  my  children. 
I  am  coming  back  again  to-morrow  or  the  next  day. 
When  Mason  is  strong  enough  I  want  to  have  a 
business  talk  with  him.  Good-by,  Nancy,  my  dear. 
You  have  the  best  thing  in  the  world,  love  and  a 
good  husband." 


344     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

As  her  father  talked,  Nancy  had  sat  as  I  have  seen 
children  sit  at  a  festival,  supremely  happy,  but  half 
dazed  by  the  very  complexness  and  multiplicity  of 
their  happiness;  for  this  father  of  hers,  now  alive 
and  well,  even  vivaciously  humorous,  had  been  for 
years  only  a  memory  to  her,  a  memory  and  sorrow- 
ing anxiety.  To  have  him  so  suddenly  restored,  to 
have  the  remembered  dear  one  given  back,  not  as 
she  had  been  taught  to  think  of  him,  but  as  she 
recollected  him  and  had  last  seen  him,  seemed  a 
miracle  scarcely  credible.  From  time  to  time  her 
fingers  would  touch  him  softly  with  a  little  familiar 
caressing  gesture  I  had  come  already  to  recognize, 
a  gesture  full  of  tenderness,  as  if  she  reached  out  to 
assure  herself  of  the  tangible  reality  of  the  loved 
one.  Held  close  to  his  breast  she  studied  with  en- 
raptured eyes  the  kind,  old  face  so  long  held  remi- 
niscently  dear,  turning  them  only  at  last  that  they 
might  seek  out  mine,  and  share  with  me  this 
new-found,  half-incredible,  overwhelming  joy. 
Strangely  enough  she  let  him  go  almost  in  silence, 
as  if  by  old  custom  there  was  no  need  of  spoken 
words  between  them. 

When  he  had  gone  she  stood  looking  down  at  me, 
and  together  we  listened  until  the  drone  of  the 
automobile  died  away  in  the  distance;  then,  quite 
simply,  Nancy  turned,  and  coming  over  to  the  bed, 
knelt  on  the  floor  beside  me. 


HOME  345 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  no  one  has  ever  been  as 
happy  as  I  am.  It  was  happiness  enough  to  have 
you,  Mason,  but  now  I  am  so  glad  for  you ;  for  I 
know  how  foolishly  it  has  troubled  you.  You 
know,  dear  heart,  that  when  he  shot  you,  your  hands 
were  frightfully  scalded.  When  the  surgeon  came 
he  said  that  there  would  have  to  be  an  operation, 
that,  if  you  were  to  get  well,  little  bits  of  healthy 
skin  must  be  planted  on  the  burned  surface.  Mrs. 
Lathrop  and  I  both  offered  ours,  and  I  thought  it 
would  be  so  sweet  to  be  able  to  help  you  a  little  that 
way.  But  the  doctor  would  have  none  of  it.  He 
said  that,  as  you  had  a  fever,  the  grafting  would 
be  a  very  difficult  process,  and  that  the  only  sure 
way  of  success  was  to  take  little  pieces  from  various 
parts  of  your  own  body.  And  he  did  it,  Mason, 
oh,  the  thinnest  pieces  in  the  world ;  so  that  it  did 
not  seem  to  me  as  if  it  could  possibly  do  any  good. 
But  it  did,  Mason ;  your  hands  are  half  well  already, 
and  a  miracle  has  happened.  The  doctor  wants  to 
write  a  paper  about  it.  They  may,  perhaps,  be  a 
little  scarred,  but  your  hands,  dear  love,  are  going 
to  be  as  you  would  want  them,  as  white  as  other 
men's." 

A  little  sturdy  breeze  was  rustling  the  branches 
outside  the  window.  It  rattled  at  the  shutters  and 
then  gleefully  tore  one  of  them  open,  letting  into 
the  room  a  flood  of  the  late  May  morning  sunshine, 


346     THE  MAN  IN  THE  BROWN  DERBY 

that  shone  in  glory  on  Nancy's  bent  head,  lighting 
her  tear-bright  eyes  like  summer  heavens.  In  spite 
of  her  half- fearful  protest,  I  raised  my  bandaged 
hands  and  drew  her  close,  until  her  lips  touched 
mine. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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